


On the Edge of a Knife

by LadyWallace



Series: Actions and Consequences [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: "On the Head of a Pin" AU, Captive Sam, Cas helps, Castiel and Dean Friendship, Creepy Alastair, Dean is scared as hell, Episode: s04e16 On the Head of a Pin, Gen, Hurt Sam, No Slash, Tortured Sam, but he's still badass, dean and cas to the rescue, evil uriel, hidden agendas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-06 06:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12811191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWallace/pseuds/LadyWallace
Summary: Set after 4x15- Uriel tricks Sam into a meeting with Alastair where the demon takes Sam captive. Dean and Castiel race to find him, but they soon discover that there's more to this than they realize. Can Dean face his old mentor and rescue his brother, or will they all become the victims of a hidden plot?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set right after "Death Takes a Holiday" and is an AU of "On the Head of a Pin"

Sam gazed out the window of the Impala as they drove down the dark highway. They'd just given Pamela a hunter's funeral and the smell of smoke still lingered in his and Dean's clothes, making his chest tight at the stark memory of her death, and the warning she had given him about his powers just before she had died.

He glanced over at Dean sitting silently in the driver's seat. He knew his brother was just as torn up about Pamela's death as he was. She'd had every right to blame them. They'd continued to drag her into things and it was only a matter of time before she got caught in the crossfire. That's what happened to everyone they cared about, after all.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache pounding behind his eyelids. He was feeling wrung out after the astral projection adventure, and just wanted to sleep.

Thankfully, Dean seemed to be thinking the same and turned off the highway after a while, and pulled into the nearest motel. He got out to book a room without saying a word and Sam sighed heavily. He hoped that a good night's sleep might help both of them.

Yeah, right, like they could ever sleep.

He startled as Dean came back, and opened the car door to grab his bag. "Got a room," he said. "23."

Sam got out and straightened his stiff muscles, before grabbing his own stuff. "Dean…" he tried but his brother just shook his head, cutting him off.

"Not tonight," Dean said shortly. "Just get some rest."

Sam bit his lip but nodded. He knew Dean wasn't going to want to talk about it now. He was even more pissed off about the whole thing because, according to Castiel, this had been a win. They had stopped the Seal from being broken, but it hardly mattered. Not when they'd lost a friend. Pamela hadn't deserved to die like that. Not for them.

And there was also the haunted look in Dean's eyes, which Sam knew was from seeing Alastair again. Dean hadn't talked about Hell since confessing to Sam that he had tortured souls, but Sam could tell that Alastair scared the crap out of his brother, and he only wished he'd had the chance to take the demon down before he could get anywhere near Dean again.

But Sam could feel the demon blood running thin. He felt wrung out, needed more, but at the same time the thought of that turned his stomach. He clenched his jaw, again remembering Pamela's last words. Maybe he would try to shake it, at least for a while. Maybe then Dean would stop looking at him like he was keeping a secret.

Of course, his brother only did that because it was true. Sam was keeping a secret.

Dean instantly went for the shower and Sam waited his turn, sitting on the bed and scanning the TV stations for any weird news. He stopped after a while, though, too tired to care and simply took his shower and crawled right into bed, casting one last glance at Dean lying in the other bed, back turned to him.

Sam crawled under the covers and closed his eyes.

He hadn't really expected to sleep, but somehow he drifted off. Perhaps his body still needed to recover after the astral projection or something, but one second he was listening to his brother's shallow breathing, and then he was standing in the middle of a forest.

It was peaceful, no foreboding, and Sam took a cautious breath of the crisp air as he looked around, wondering how he had managed to score a dream without nightmares.

"Hello, Sam."

He turned around with a start and saw Castiel standing there behind him, hands in the pockets of his trench coat.

Sam frowned. "What—what are you doing in my dream? Are you really here, or…"

Castiel took a step forward. "I apologize for intruding, but this is the only way I could talk to you without the risk of Dean overhearing."

Sam cast a wary glance at the angel. "Why do you not want Dean to hear this?"

Castiel glanced down, looking torn, and then looked back up to meet Sam's eyes with his piercing blue gaze. "We've tracked down Alastair, found where he's hiding out, but we need help taking him down."

Sam furrowed his brow. "And you want me?" He asked skeptically. It wasn't like the angels had come to him for help before. He thought he was an 'abomination'.

"Your…powers," Castiel said, a bite in his voice showing some disgust as he said it, making Sam flinch. "They may mark you as an abomination, but they can also be useful. Like in this instance. I think we both know that Dean cannot face Alastair. They have…history."

Sam swallowed hard, his throat aching suddenly at the memory of Dean's pain, his obvious inner turmoil, as he confessed to Sam what had happened in Hell. Sam's hands clenched into fists at his sides. If he could repay Alastair even a little of the pain his brother had suffered at the demon's hands, then he would take that opportunity gladly.

"What do you need me to do?"

Something like a pleased expression passed over Castiel's face and Sam frowned slightly, thinking it strangely out of character for the angel to show such an expression, but then, he didn't know him that well either. "I need you to meet me here." He handed Sam a piece of paper and then disappeared.

Sam looked around the woods and then looked at the paper in his hand, seeing an address written there.

~~~~~~~

He woke with a start, sitting upright as a groan pierced the silence in the room. He glanced over at Dean and saw him thrashing in the bed, head tossing from side to side.

"No, please," he whispered hoarsely before a whimper escaped him. "Stop! Alastair…don't…"

Sam's chest panged and he swiftly swung his legs over the side of the bed and crossed to his brother.

"Dean, you're okay," he said softly, seeing the pain written across his brother's face even in the darkness. "It's okay. You're safe."

He reached out the gently touch Dean's shoulder. His brother started under his hand, gasping a breath, but then stilled, seeming to settle a little.

Sam stayed there for a few seconds, waiting to make sure Dean would stay asleep, before he moved quietly over to his bag, grabbing his clothes and getting into them as quietly as possible. Then he grabbed the demon knife and slipped it into the back of his belt. He didn't know if he had enough juice to use his powers against Alastair, so having a back up wasn't a bad idea.

He almost took the keys for the Impala, but stopped at the last second. Dean would already be pissed enough at him for leaving, he didn't need to make him any angrier by 'stealing' his car.

So he simply hot-wired a car he found down the street and then started off to the address Cas had given him.

He parked a couple blocks away from the address and sat in the car for a moment, suddenly undecided. He knew he wanted Alastair dead—that was certainty—but at the same time…running off and not telling Dean, especially after everything that had just happened, just didn't settle well in his stomach.

Heaving a deep sigh, he pulled out his phone and dialed his brother's number, hoping for voicemail so he wouldn't have to talk to Dean right now, but there would be something for him to know Sam was alright if he woke up and found him missing. Dean would still be pissed, sure, but Sam would rather have his brother be that than worried.

As he suspected, the voicemail picked up. Sam figured that Dean had turned his volume off for the night.

"Hey, Dean, it's me, um…look, Cas got in contact with me, and…he needed my help with something. Don't be pissed, okay? I'll be back by morning."

He heaved a breath as he ended the message and slid the phone back into his pocket, getting out of the car before he could change his mind.

He looked around at the place. It was an old abandoned factory of some kind, and the area was pretty deserted. There were just a few streetlights on, illuminating the area dimly. As Sam walked over to stand under one of the light posts, wondering where Castiel might be, the light flickered and crackled slightly, making him reach for his demon knife.

"Castiel?" he called, eyes flicking through the shadows. "Is that you?"

"Castiel isn't here."

Sam spun around as a big figure materialized out of the darkness, an unpleasant smirk on his face. Sam's features hardened as he faced the new arrival.

"Uriel, I didn't know you were coming," he said, giving the angel just as much courtesy as he usually got from him. "Where's Cas?" He looked around, suddenly wary. He had never liked Uriel, didn't like the way the angel looked at him like he was something that he scraped off the bottom of his shoes. Of course, he tended to look at all humans that way. It just seemed to be directed at Sam in particular—undoubtedly due to the demon blood. He was an abomination, after all.

"Castiel, isn't coming," the angel confirmed with some dark satisfaction in his voice. "He has stood in the way of what needs to be done for long enough."

Dread began to fill Sam's stomach. He took a step backwards, hand going toward his demon knife, tucked into his belt, even though he knew it didn't work on angels.

"Is Alastair even here or is this just some plot to get me here alone and take me out yourself?" Sam demanded, steeling his voice to hide his unease.

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head, Sammy boy," a sibilant voice hissed from the shadows behind Sam and the hunter spun around, seeing the demon in the tall, thin, meatsuit break free from the darkness clinging to him and stride forward. Alastair's eyes rolled up into his head, his demon eyes pale in their sockets, as a chilling grin spread over his thin lips. "I'm here, sure enough."

Sam's breath caught in his throat and he snatched the demon knife from his belt, holding it ready. His other hand came up instinctively to try and use his psychic abilities, but Alastair just laughed derisively at him, his eyes mockingly turning back to normal.

"That won't work on me this time, sunshine. You don't have the juice."

"Oh yeah?" Sam demanded, moving his feet into a ready fighting stance, his hand tightening on his knife as he readied for Alastair to make his move.

"He's right," Uriel's voice came from behind Sam, a dark streak of pleasure tinting it. "I can smell it. You're still tainted, but the filthy stench is not as strong. I'm guessing your demon whore hasn't been around to see you lately."

"Then do something! Help me!" Sam hissed at Uriel. "You're the one who called me here!"

Alastair chuckled, causing Sam's blood to freeze at the sound like metal on glass. "Oh, poor little Sammy; you haven't figured it out yet? And we all thought you were the smart one. The halo isn't going to help you. As dirty as it feels to admit it, we had a deal, kiddo, him and I."

Sam whipped around to look at the angel once again. "What? You sold me out?"

"Face it, Winchester, you're no help in this fight. You'd sooner help the demons than the angels."

"Apparently so would you!" Sam snapped, eyes darting everywhere for some way to escape, but there was no clear exit that wasn't guarded by extremely powerful supernatural beings. He was so screwed.

"You watch your tongue, boy," Uriel growled. "I am looking to free my brother."

Sam didn't think it was possible for his blood to freeze even more but it did. "Lucifer?" he breathed. "You're trying to free Lucifer?"

Uriel inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Indeed. He is the perfect one to bring us to new power. I have always found his stance…refreshing."

"Meaning the destruction of humanity as a whole," Sam said blandly, the taste of bile in his throat.

"Precisely," Uriel shrugged.

"Isn't that treason?" Sam asked.

Uriel speared him with a sharp look. "It's not treason when there's no one to commit treason against."

Sam swallowed hard, not understanding exactly what Uriel was getting at, but knowing he was in trouble, pure and simple, and he was going to have to think fast if he was going to get out of there alive.

He was really regretting not telling Dean in person what he planned to do now. Of course if he had, Dean would likely be there with him and then they would both be in trouble.

So with only an instant to think, he spun back toward Alastair and swung the blade right at his chest. But the demon only casually snapped a hand up and caught his wrist and spun Sam around, flinging him into a pile of old, broken pallets that were stacked against a wall. Sam hit hard, tumbling among the splintery wood, but somehow he'd managed to keep ahold of his knife in the fall and he scrambled up, hand raised, calling up his powers to fling Alastair aside like he had before in the graveyard. He didn't care what the demon and Uriel said; he knew he could do this.

But as he tried to fling the demon aside, the only thing he got was a sudden, sharp headache. He cried out and slumped, the pain in his head blinding him as he clapped a hand to his forehead and tried again. Alastair just smiled and advanced on him, the hunter's powers having no effect but to ruffle the demon's hair and clothes as if in a light breeze. Sam stumbled backwards until he found himself against the wall and then Alastair simply slapped his out-stretched hand aside with utter indifference, and clamped his cold fingers around Sam's throat, raising the hunter several inches, forcing him to brace himself on his toes, gasping for breath.

"What's the matter, Sam? Can't get it up?" Alastair cooed, obviously enjoying Sam's helplessness. He rolled his eyes. "You and your brother both."

Sam snarled and clawed at Alastair's hand, but the demon simply dropped him and Sam fell in a heap at the demon's feet. He looked up, drawing in a sharp breath, and saw Alastair staring down at him.

"I've gotta say, kid, as sorry as your brother was, I expected more from Azazel's chosen one. I have to wonder what he saw in you."

Sam tried to get to his feet, but Alastair, flicked a hand lazily and Sam was slammed back against the ground with the demon's mojo, unable to move more than an inch.

Alastair looked over at Uriel then. "Well? What do you want me to do with him?"

"Just like we talked about," Uriel said. "Do what you want with him, just don't kill him yet. We want it to look good for Dean—make sure he understands the…importance of fighting this war."

And then Sam understood more fully. They wanted to incite Dean to rage, so that he would fight, and they were planning on doing that by killing Sam.

"That won't work," he tried to tell them. "Dean will kill all of you."

"Will he?" Alastair asked sibilantly. "Are you willing to bet on that, Sammy?"

"It doesn't matter anyway," Sam said, trying to sound braver than he felt. "He'll be here before you can do much of anything."

"That's what we're counting on," Uriel said with a cold satisfaction, then turned to Alastair, disgust on his face, but tempered with resigned necessity. "Do what you want with the mud monkey. We can always put him back together again later if we find we have need of him."

The two shared a glance full of meaning and Sam's stomach flipped, suddenly registering exactly what was going to happen to him. He was going to be Alastair's captive. Alastair, the demon who had tortured his brother in Hell. The one who had broken Dean, who had made him give up, get off the rack, and start torturing souls in return.

If even Dean, Sam's stubborn as hell older brother, could be broken by this demon, then what chance did he have? He may have thought he was stronger than Dean now after his brother got back, but before Hell? No.

Uriel disappeared with a loud flap of wings and then it was just Alastair and Sam there. Alastair let up on his mojo and Sam scrambled halfway up, half thinking of trying to flee, even though he was pretty sure that would do no good. Then he realized the demon knife was only inches from his right hand and he went to make a grab for it, only to have Alastair's foot casually crush his hand. Sam winced and grit his teeth.

"Come on, kid, you know how this is gonna go. May as well resign yourself."

Sam growled and scrambled to his feet again, forgetting the knife, and made one last attempt to bolt.

Of course, Alastair simply rolled his eyes and flicked a hand. Sam felt the invisible shove at his back and sprawled on the ground with a helpless shout. Alastair strode over and kicked him onto his back.

"Where do you think you're going, Sammy?" Alastair asked, a cruel, yet delighted smile spreading over his face, putting a manic gleam in his eye. "The fun is just about to start."

And with that, he reached down to Sam who was feeling nothing but terror, and grabbed him by the front of his coat. Before Sam could even cry out, he was whisked away into the void and everything was suddenly darkness.

~~~~~~~

Dean jerked awake, chest heaving, a scream dying in his throat, and sweat plastering his shirt and hair to his skin. He surged upright, throwing the tangled blankets from off of himself. His hands were trembling as he lowered his head into them, trying to calm his breathing. He quickly got up and fumbled for the bottle of whisky in his bag and uncapped it, taking a deep, bracing gulp. The burn of the liquor and the dull buzz that came a few more gulps later started to ease the sheer, stark terror of his nightmare.

He'd been under Alastair's knife again, as usual. And then, of course, he'd inevitably picked it up. But it wasn't some random soul this time. No, it was Sammy.

Dean shuddered again and took another long pull from the bottle before he wiped his mouth, taking a bracing breath.

Something was wrong.

He spun around and realized that it was because Sam's bed was empty. He turned the lamp on just to make sure he wasn't seeing anything, but no, his brother was not there.

His sheets were mussed, Dean remembered him going to sleep, but where was Sam now? He wasn't in the bathroom, because the door was wide open and it was dark in there.

Dean hurried to the door, flinging it open and stepping outside. The Impala was still there—which was honestly a surprise. Sam also wasn't in the car. He wasn't in the motel lobby, or anywhere within the vicinity.

Dread began to fill Dean. What if something had happened to Sam? Had he gone out to get some fresh air and been nabbed by something? But surely Dean would have woken up for that.

Unless Sam hadn't had time to fight back or even call for help.

Dean swallowed down bile at the thought of all the possibilities as he hurried back inside to put his boots on. That was when he saw his phone lying on the table where he had tossed it with his keys upon entering the room.

A dark look crossed his face. Maybe there was another explanation to Sam's disappearance after all. Like him running off with Ruby again. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time.

He grabbed his phone, meaning to dial Sam's number and rip the idiot and new one, when he saw a voicemail from his wayward brother.

Frowning, Dean pressed the button to listen to it and his frown and annoyance and fear only increased when he heard what Sam had to say.

"Hey, Dean, it's me, um…look, Cas got in contact with me, and…he needed my help with something. Don't be pissed, okay? I'll be back by morning."

"Oh, like hell you will," Dean muttered. What the hell was Cas doing calling on Sam anyway? He usually went to Dean. He didn't think the angels even liked Sam because of the demon blood.

"That son of a bitch," Dean cursed and looked around the room, half expecting Castiel to pop up out the nowhere like he tended to do. "Castiel, you bastard! If you can hear me, we need to talk. Now!"

He looked around, waiting for the puff of wind that heralded the angel's appearance but there was nothing.

"Cas!" Dean cried again. "Come on, man, I know you can hear me with that angel radio crap. Get your ass down here now, I need to talk to you!"

Dean still waited, to no avail. He finally sighed in frustration, and called Sam. The phone rang and rang, and finally went to voicemail. Dean cursed, clenching his hands into fists. He called again, and this time left "Sam, call me now!" as a voicemail.

He stood there in the middle of the room, looking around helplessly. What the hell was he going to do? Where had Sam gone and why?

And then, he thought that perhaps Cas hadn't called Sam at all. That maybe Sam had just used that as an excuse to go see Ruby.

Dean looked through his contacts and found the demon's number. He had stolen it from Sam's phone a while back for situations just like this one. He hated himself a little bit for stooping to such measures, but he had to find out if Sam was just off screwing his demonic girlfriend and keeping secrets from his older brother, or if he was actually in legitimate danger.

Ruby at least picked up on the third ring. "What?"

"Well hello to you too," Dean grumbled. "I want to talk to my brother."

Ruby scoffed. "Why do you think he's with me?"

"I don't know, because usually when I can't find him, I find out later that he was running off with you exorcising demons with his mind."

"Well, he's not here, goodbye…"

"Ruby don't hang up," Dean growled. "Seriously, I just want to know if he's alright. If he's there, just put him on the phone, dammit!"

"He's not here, Dean, that's the truth. Now do not call me again." The call ended and Dean threw his phone down on the bed in frustration.

But now his worry was starting to win out over his anger. Because if he couldn't get a hold of Sam, or Cas, and his brother wasn't hanging out with Ruby, then where the hell was he, and more importantly, what the hell had happened to him?


	2. Chapter 2

Sam woke with a sharp gasp, eyes flying open, as they whipped around to take in his surroundings. It was dark, and cold, and he tried to move, get up from the hard surface he was lying on, but found he couldn't move at all.

Terror began to set in as he realized that he was strapped down to some sort of metal rack, his wrists and ankles held tight with manacle cuffs and more straps going over his chest and hips, securing him tightly. He'd been stripped to his t-shirt and jeans, even his feet bare and feeling uncomfortably exposed in the cold room.

He yanked at his manacles with everything he had, but there was no give. He was there to stay.

Something shifted in the shadows to one side of the room, and Sam tensed, fear making his heart pound in his ears as he watched Alastair slip out of the corner he had been hiding in and stride slowly over to Sam's prone form.

"Ah, awake are you? Good. Now that I've got you here all by ourselves, no unforeseen interruptions, we can finally get to know each other a little better." He walked over to a cart covered in a mildewed old cloth that rested beside the rack and flicked the cloth off with a theatrical tug. Sam's stomach turned sickly as he saw the collection of torture implements there. Alastair picked up a scalpel that gleamed dimly in the low light from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling nearby. "How will we pass the time?"

"Why are you doing this?" Sam asked, tugging at his restraints again, trying to stall the inevitable for as long as possible. He couldn't believe he had fallen for meeting with "Castiel". He couldn't believe he had been so stupid as to think he would be able to simply kill Alastair and keep Dean from having to face the demon again. But he should have known. Uriel was right, it had been too long since he'd had the blood, and he could barely have expected to exorcise a low class demon lackey, let alone Alastair.

Alastair cocked his head to one side with a curious look at Sam's question. "Why shouldn't I? Now, I'm not really thrilled to be working with one of those feathery uptight pricks, but Uriel has the same long-term goal as we do and he has proved useful so far."

"Raising Lucifer," Sam breathed, his stomach clenching at just the thought. He shook his head. "You won't succeed, you know. We'll stop you."

Alastair gave a low chuckle. "You know, kid, despite the circumstances, I do find myself rather liking you. You have guts, more than your brother." Sam glared at the demon and Alastair shrugged unapologetically. "It's true. Oh, Dean had defiance, sure, but I broke it out of him soon enough. Thirty years is no record for being under my knife. But what I was going to make him into, well, that would have been fantastic. That was where his true potential lay—with the knife in his hand."

Sam's throat constricted, as Alastair's eyes pierced him.

"Does that bother you, Sam, to know that your brother is a murderer, a torturer? That he enjoyed it?"

"You broke him," Sam snarled. "He's so filled with guilt for what you made him do that he can't get his head around stopping the apocalypse!"

Alastair made a small mocking sound of pity. "Sorry to hear that. The boy had such promise when he was my apprentice. But you, Sam, you are a different creature all together aren't you? I can tell that, and it's not just the demon blood in you. Are you strong enough to stop the apocalypse?"

Sam shifted slightly, uncomfortable under the demon's piercing gaze. "I guess I'll have to be. But first, I'm gonna kill you."

"Oh yes, there's the famous Winchester bravado," Alastair said with a slight sigh, rolling his eyes. "I will admit that I'm interested to get to know you better, Sam. After all, I tortured your father, and your brother—why, I'm almost honored. You're the last Winchester left that I haven't had the pleasure of slicing apart."

Sam glowered at him. "It doesn't matter what you do to me, it's not going to make any difference. I don't know what your game is, but I'm not going to play by it. So hurt me all you want to." His voice trembled slightly at the end and he wanted to kick himself. Alastair just looked all the more pleased to hear his obvious fear.

"That's what your brother said at first too," the demon replied reflectively as he looked at his reflection in the blade of his knife. "And you know how that ended." He looked down at Sam with something akin to mock pity. "Oh Sam, Sam, Sam. You have no idea what's in store for you, boy. I almost feel sorry for you. If I felt sorry for anyone. Anyhoo—" He turned fully to loom over the rack, lowering the scalpel he held over Sam's face. "Let's get started shall we? I'm practically quivering with anticipation."

Sam flinched and squeezed his eyes shut as he watched the blade lower toward him, and somehow kept himself from making a sound as the blade bit into the side of his face.

~~~~~~~

Dean spent all night driving around town, looking for any trace of Sam. He must have called Sam's phone a hundred times, but still got nothing but voicemail. He even looked in all the bars, wondering if maybe Sam had gone on a secret bender—of course, that wasn't usually his brother's thing but after Pamela's death…yeah, Dean wouldn't have blamed him.

He began to wish it was just something stupid, Sam running off for name-reason-here, but by the time he pulled back into the motel he knew in his gut that his brother was in trouble, and he was going to have to figure out exactly what Sammy had gotten himself into this time before something terrible happened to him.

If it hadn't already.

He nearly had a heart attack as he walked through the door to the hotel room and saw a figure sitting ramrod straight on the edge of one of the beds. Until he recognized the tan coat.

"Dammit, Cas! We've talked about this!" he snapped, but was admittedly slightly relieved to see the angel. Well, relieved and pissed that he hadn't shown up last night when he'd called him a ton of times between dialing Sam's phone. "Where they hell were you? I prayed to you, a hundred times."

"Twenty-six actually. And I heard you, Dean," Cas said, standing up and coming to stand too close to the hunter as usual. "I just wasn't able to come last night."

"Oh, you weren't able to come? That's fine then—damn peachy," Dean growled as he threw his keys onto the table and checked his phone for the umpteenth time for messages from Sam, but of course there was nothing. "Sam's missing, you know, he's been gone since last night. The least you could have done was given me some kind of confirmation that you would look into it."

Cas offered a somewhat sympathetic look but shook his head. "Dean, I'm sorry, but I have had issues of my own to deal with."

Dean snorted and shook his head, going over to grab his bottle of whisky again, taking a deep drink. "Look, I don't expect you to come when I call, but, when Sam disappears with nothing but a voicemail saying that he went to meet up with you because you called him for help, then I would kinda like an answer."

Cas frowned, cocking his head at Dean. "Sam said he went to meet me?"

Dean pulled his phone out and played the voicemail for Cas. The angel looked even more confused and, even worse, slightly worried. "Dean, I didn't contact Sam last night."

"Oh, so he wasn't the reason you weren't able to come when I prayed to you?" Dean demanded.

Cas turned away, shaking his head. "No…I…an angel was killed, someone from my garrison. She was the third this week."

"Well, sorry to hear that," Dean said, not really feeling very sorry at the moment. "But long story short, Sam isn't in town, he's not with that demon bitch Ruby, and he's not picking up his phone. I'm afraid something happened to him, and I could really use the help tracking him down."

Cas turned back around. "Dean, I wish I could but…"

"Oh, of course," Dean said bitterly, glaring at the angel. "You can call on me all you want, demand that I do everything you ask, but the minute I need something, it's just no-can-do?"

"Dean, I am fighting a war, we both are," Cas said firmly, stepping back into Dean's personal space. "I will look into finding Sam, but…" he bit his lip, looking around as if worried someone else was there. Dean frowned as the angel lowered his voice. "I fear there is something wrong in Heaven, Dean. I'm not sure what yet, but the orders…they're increasingly contradicting to what I would expect, and I'm not the only one who sees that."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

Cas looked away, again seeming hesitant to say anything. "When I said before that I had doubts…Dean, I don't think all our orders are coming from God anymore. I think now that we're on the ground it is easier for those in charge of the garrisons to bend the orders given to fit their own purposes. There are whispers of rebellion, and everyone who has publically expressed their concerns…they've all shown up dead."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "You think that it's angels killing angels? You don't just think they got in the way of demons trying to break seals?"

"I don't know what to think," Cas said and he sounded, for the first time, very tired, and Dean almost felt sorry for him. "But you understand the importance of figuring out what is going on, surely. It wouldn't just be bad for us, it could help bring on the apocalypse. If we cannot trust our brethren, our fellow soldiers on the field of battle, then how can we expect to stop the Seals from being broken? Especially if we don't know if someone is working against us."

Dean shifted slightly. "Yeah, I guess I see your point. But where does that leave Sam? If he's in trouble—"

"I will do my best to find out what happened to Sam," Cas said. "But, a word of caution, Dean, do not go looking for trouble. Even I don't know where you might find it."

Before Dean could ask what Cas meant by that the angel had disappeared with a gust of air. Dean slammed his hand down on the table.

"Dammit!" he shouted.

But thanks to Cas, he was even more worried about what had happened to his brother. Because if angels were taking the side of the bad guys here, then who the hell were they supposed to trust?

"I guess no one, as usual," Dean said, and then decided to call Bobby.

~~~~~~~

Sam had given up trying to keep silent the more Alastair carved into him. He'd put up a good effort, but the demon was a master at finding all the most painful, tender spots on a human body and sticking his blade in just right so that all the nerve endings flared in agony, even though, in reality, the wounds were pretty superficial.

"That's right, Sammy—scream," Alastair said with satisfaction as he paused for a moment and looked up to meet Sam's eyes again. "Are you as much a screamer as your brother, I wonder? Did you even know your brother was a screamer?"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through the most current agony that was shooting down his arm from where Alastair had delicately sliced into a nerve on his right hand causing his whole arm to feel like he had dipped it in boiling oil. He wished the demon would stop talking about Dean. Sam didn't want to picture his brother on the rack, torn to pieces over and over and over again by this sadistic bastard. Not after having to watch him get ripped apart by hellhounds without a chance to save him.

"Hmm," Alastair said, setting aside the scalpel he had been using and glancing at the rest of the instruments he had collected on the table. "You know, it's a shame really," he said nonchalantly as he picked up something that looked like a leather bore, and held it to eye level, inspecting it thoughtfully. "Shame that you couldn't have seen your brother work. Oh sure, he was a little clumsy at first, but he was a quick study, that one. One of my most promising students. He had a…knack for knife work." He finally settled on a small curved blade with a very sharp point. Sam's breath quickened as Alastair tested it against his thumb.

"Everyone seems to think Hell is full of the most unimaginable tortures," the demon went on. "And some go for that approach—all flash and ceremony. But a true master doesn't need anything fancy." He reached out and traced the deadly point of the blade down Sam's cheek, leaving a thin scratch. Sam flinched as he continued down his chin, and neck, stopping at his clavicle and pressing the point into his skin until a drop of blood rose. "A real master of torment only needs one good blade and the skill to use it to create the most exquisite agony. It…hm…kind of takes an artist's touch."

Sam gasped as Alastair swiftly scraped the blade up his throat and took it away before leaning close, gripping Sam's windpipe with two fingers, cutting off his breath. "Personally, I don't think you have the potential your brother did, but I'm not the one who makes the rules. I just have to follow them. After all, you're the boy with the demon blood, and Dean is the so-called Righteous Man." He sneered. "Still, if that pigeon hadn't come and stolen him away from me, he could have been a real runner up."

"What are you talking about?" Sam choked out.

Alastair smiled. "Oh, of course; you don't know. It's not like the angels would have told you." He straightened, letting go of Sam's throat and striding around the table, tapping his blade thoughtfully against his chin. "Dean was meant to break. That's why I was so hard on the boy. But it would have happened anyway. I realized soon after starting on your daddy that it wasn't going to be him. John Winchester was more stubborn than you and your brother combined." Alastair rolled his eyes with a little sneer.

"What do you mean, Dean was 'meant to break'."

Alastair smirked and then looked up at the ceiling and recited, "'And so it is written, that the First Seal shall be broken when the Righteous Man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break'."

Sam's breath caught in his throat at Alastair's words. "What does that mean?"

Alastair glanced at him with a smirk. "Come on, Sammy, I know you're not that stupid."

"Are you saying that Dean…broke the First Seal?" Sam asked in a hushed voice, almost afraid to voice the question aloud.

"Got it in one."

Horror washed over Sam, bile rose in his throat, and tears pooled in his eyes. "Oh god," he breathed to himself. "Oh god, Dean." He looked back up at Alastair. "Does he know?"

"I doubt it, unless his angel pals told him, but why would they do that? Secretive little gits." Alastair shrugged. "So you see, Sam, your brother started all of this. He's the one you're going to have to thank for the end of the world."

"No," Sam shook his head firmly. "No, you're lying."

"Why should I?" Alastair demanded. "I was thrilled when it happened. Besides, I'd never lie about that, it's kind of a…religious thing for me."

"It doesn't change anything," Sam said. "We'll still stop it."

"Oh really, and how do you propose to do that?" Alastair asked, leaning over the rack, close to Sam's face. "Because right now, you're a little tied up, and you said it yourself, your brother isn't the man he once was. I broke him, oh yes, I cracked right through that self-righteous exterior, and if he were to find out his real purpose in Hell then he would break all over again. He would fracture into teeny tiny pieces and poor little Sammy and all God's angels would never be able to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. I should know. I'm the one who took him apart to begin with. He's only barely stitched back together right now."

Sam blinked the tears from his eyes at the hopelessness of the situation he was in. If Alastair was telling the truth what did that mean for Dean? Sam knew well enough that the knowledge that he had started this whole thing would destroy his brother.

"But in the meantime," Alastair said and raised the blade again over Sam's face, tracing it's way down his body. "Enough chit-chat. I want to hear those pretty screams I know you have hidden in there, Sammy." Sam glared up at him, squirming as he felt Alastair slip a finger under the hem of his shirt and slid it upwards. "Don't hold back—it helps me know if I'm doing a good job or not. The more…guttural…the better."

Sam's eyes flew open and he cried out in agony as Alastair's blade dug into his stomach. Alastair carved gleefully, twisting his blade just right so that Sam was unable to help the scream that tore from his throat. He writhed on the rack, the agony unbearable, especially when Alastair replaced the knife with his hand, and sank his fingers deep into Sam's guts and twisted.

Sam continued screaming as more and more torments unfolded and he could do nothing about it. Not only was the agony unbearable, but he had lost all hope with Alastair's revelation. He knew now that Dean would never be able to come back from that, and it was only a matter of time before he found out the truth. And now Sam was stuck here, unable to help either because he would surely be dead before long.

"That's better," Alastair said happily as he drew another long scream from Sam with an artful twist of his blade. "There's still so many ways we can have fun, and I have all the time in the world, so strap in—oh wait, you already have."

A tear slid down Sam's cheek, stinging a cut there. He simultaneously wished that Dean would come for him, breaking through the door and taking Alastair down like the monster he was, but another part of him hoped that his brother never had to see this. Never had to face the demon who haunted his nightmares every time he closed his eyes. Never had to find out what had really happened when he got off that rack in Hell.

Sam's eyes squeezed shut again as more tears slid from his closed lids. For the first time in a long time, he had absolutely no idea what to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean finished his call with Bobby and sat down at the table in the motel, dropping his head into his hands. The older hunter had promised to look into anything he could find about where Sam might have ended up or any reason he might have gone off. Unfortunately, Dean was sure that it wouldn't be that easy, not after talking to Cas and realizing that the angel hadn't been the one to call on Sam. Of course, Cas could be lying, but then, what reason would he have to lie? And Dean could see he was sincere—the angel wasn't exactly good at hiding emotions since he didn't show much of them. Besides, Cas seemed to have other things on his mind, since he couldn't even stay around long enough to help Dean track down his missing brother.

Thinking about what Cas had told him about supposedly defiant angels getting ganked though…Dean had to wonder if maybe Sam had gotten caught in the crossfire—and yeah, he didn't want to think of the possible outcomes of that, but it was necessary to consider. After all, the angels had never seemed to like Sam at all, aside from Cas who seemed more indifferent, and at least not outwardly disgusted with Dean's little brother. What if they decided that Sam wasn't worth the trouble they seemed to think he was, and wanted to take him out? But if that were the case, wouldn't Cas have heard about it?

No, something fishy was going on, and Dean was going to get to the bottom of it sooner or later. And then there would be hell to pay.

Of course…there was another possibility, one that Dean had been purposefully avoiding.

They had run into Alastair while he was trying to break the seal by 'killing death twice' and then had promptly escaped the angels when Cas had showed up to congratulate the Winchesters on their hollow victory. He hadn't thought of it much then, Pamela's death still too fresh in his mind for much thought of anything else, but Alastair would be pissed that he'd been foiled, and a pissed off Alastair was not a good Alastair—Dean was well aware of that fact. What if the demon thought he would take Sam captive out of spite?

Dean's stomach lurched just at the thought and he forced down the urge to vomit, standing up and pacing as he ran his hand over his face.

"No, no, no, please, no," he whispered fruitlessly. No way. He couldn't stand the thought of the sadistic demon having his hands on his little brother. Not gonna happen. Not on Dean's watch.

Of course his own legs went watery every time he had seen the demon topside so what the hell good would he do going face to face with Alastair? Could he even defeat him? He had too much history with the demon, and he knew that Alastair would say or do something to make him freeze up if they went head to head and then it would all be over and Dean would end up back on his rack.

As much as he hated this, he knew he was going to have to ask for help, and there was only one person who could provide assistance right now.

Dean took a deep breath and glanced upward slightly. "Castiel," he called before biting his lip and closing his eyes, trying to concentrate on the prayer. "Um, I pray to Castiel who might-est not be listening anyway. But if you are, Cas…I need to talk to you. I think I may know what happened to Sam. So if you could come down here again, that would be great. Uh…amen, I guess."

He stood in the middle of the motel room, looking at Sam's still rumpled bed and not hearing any of the usual signs of an angel arriving. He huffed a sigh and went over to the table. "Screw this," he muttered. "I'll do it myself."

He grabbed his gun and car keys, then glanced around but realized then that Sam must have taken the demon knife. "Dammit, Sammy." He shook his head.

If Alastair was out there, he would probably find Dean soon enough, and now Dean wouldn't even have a weapon that could do any damage to him. What a time for his guardian angel to be a no-show.

A cold pit of dread filled Dean's stomach as he even thought of meeting up with the demon again, this time fully corporeal with blood and flesh, and the ability to bleed. It wouldn't just be a matter of getting shot with rock salt this time.

Images of Hell flashed through his head: the pain, the blood on his hands—blood seeping from his own body. His screams—the screams of the people he tortured—it was all swirling into one long nightmarish flashback, and through it all, Alastair's sibilant, mocking voice. First whispering taunts. Cruel words that dug deep into his soul, and then, almost worse, the words of encouragement. Alastair's long cold fingers wrapping around Dean's, pressing the handle of his razor into the human's hand as the demon stood behind him over the quivering, pleading soul strapped to the rack.

_"It's so easy, Deano. Just slice nice and easy. If you don't want to, I can put you back on the rack instead. Would you rather that happen? Make you scream? Take you apart in all the ways you dread the most? No? Then do it. Right there—that's right. Good boy, Dean. I can tell you're a natural."_

Dean was frozen in place as the words wormed their way through his brain like a cold poison. His breathing came in fast pants as he fought to pull himself out of the memories but they seemed to hold him as tightly as the manacles on Alastair's rack. Keeping him from focusing, keeping him from feeling anything but terror…

"Dean."

When the hand touched his shoulder he spun and leveled the gun directly at the intruder's face. But it was just Cas, standing there impassively, staring with indifference down the barrel of Dean's pistol. The hunter breathed out a long sigh and uncocked his gun.

"Again with the popping up out of nowhere. I'm gonna get you a fricken' bell," Dean grunted, running a hand through his hair before realizing how badly he was shaking. He then clenched his hand by his side.

"Are you…all right?" Cas asked, cocking his head slightly as he still stared unmoving at Dean, as if the hunter might all of a sudden do something more alarming than having a flashback in the middle of the day, standing fully awake in the middle of a crappy motel room.

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

"You said you might know what happened to Sam," Cas continued. "I came to offer my assistance."

"Uh, yeah," Dean replied grimly, wetting his lips, getting himself back to the present. "Cas, what happened after Alastair escaped you back there?"

The angel frowned. "I don't know. We weren't able to apprehend him after he fled town. I think he may have found a way to ward himself against us like he did at the funeral home. I haven't seen him since I interrupted him talking to you when you were still a spirit."

"Dammit," Dean muttered, running a hand over his face. "I think he might have something to do with Sam's disappearance."

Cas frowned. "But why would he take Sam?"

"I don't know, to spite me maybe? To draw me out? Get under my skin more than he already has?" Dean spun around, the fear and agitation swelling inside of him. He was afraid he might explode if he didn't do something soon. "Cas, I can't let him get Sam. I don't want to see Sammy go through that, I can't…" He stopped, throat suddenly closing. He turned away sharply, taking a steadying breath. "We have to find him.

Cas took one step forward. "Dean, I will offer whatever assistance I can but—"

"But you're busy, I get it," Dean snapped bitterly. "You're always busy, and I know you cloud-hoppers don't care what happens to Sam because of the demon blood, because you think he's an abomination, but I swear, if something happens to him, I won't lift a damn finger to help in your fight, you understand?"

Cas' face shifted, and Dean thought he saw something that almost looked like sympathy there in his intense blue eyes. Cas' shoulders slumped and he lost a little of the stuck up look he tended to effect more around other angels. "You're wrong, you know," he said, causing Dean to turn back to him with a frown, wondering what he meant. "Not all of us think Sam in an abomination."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, well, your pal Uriel obviously doesn't agree."

"Uriel has differing opinions," Cas said almost bitterly. "But I do not think Sam is evil. I can see that he is truly good deep down. Likely because he has had people that care for him in his life. I have not given up faith that Sam Winchester is indeed good unlike most of my brothers and sisters."

Dean looked at the angel, somewhat surprised. "Really?"

"Yes, I also realize his importance to you," Cas continued, then paused and seemed to decide on something. "I will help you find your brother, Dean. If Alastair does indeed have him then I think you will need my help."

Dean swallowed hard. "It's not necessary, you know, I can take him…"

"Dean," Cas said firmly, but not entirely unkindly. "You do realize that I am the only living being besides Alastair who knows what you went through in Hell."

Dean looked away, unable to meet the angel's eyes; shame, self-hatred, and guilt washed over him and he flinched as Cas' hand hesitantly landed on his shoulder.

"You will not face him alone, Dean, even though I'm sure you are stubborn enough to do so," the angel said with some trace of wry humor that surprised Dean enough to look up at him.

He cleared his throat and nodded jerkily. "Okay, well, thanks, Cas. I'd appreciate the help."

Cas nodded once. "You're welcome."

They were silent for a moment then Dean said. "You can let go of my shoulder now."

"Of course," Cas snatched his hand back awkwardly and took one step back from Dean. The hunter rolled his eyes.

"Okay, Spock, if we're doing this though, we need a game plan. You got any idea where Alastair is?"

Cas' brow furrowed at the unfamiliar name, but replied. "No, but as I said, he will likely have warded himself against angels. And warding is not always so hard to find. You only have to look where you're not supposed to."

Dean shrugged. "Okay then. But…!" he said quickly as Cas reached out to touch his forehead. "We're driving. That way we can be sure we don't miss something."

Cas looked a little peeved, but he shrugged. "Fair enough."

"Let's go then."

Soon they were driving off down the road, hopefully on their way to find Sam. Dean only hoped that they weren't too late.

~~~~~~~

Sam gasped awake as freezing water splashed over him. He jerked against the straps that held him firmly to the rack, but he couldn't move more than a couple inches.

"Rise and shine, Sammy," Alastair's nasally voice called, accompanied by the clank of the bucket hitting the floor. "I can't have you falling asleep on me, now, can I? That would be…rude."

Sam's chest shuddered with pained breaths, feeling the helpless surge of adrenaline pump through him again, trying to keep his body functioning despite the blood loss. He felt almost impossibly energized, the pain slightly dulled. He glanced up at the demon, wondering if he'd done something to keep him going. By all accounts, he should have bled out by now. He was simply too tired to question now, especially about anything that could only mean more torture.

Watered down blood was dripping off the sides of the rack now and splashing onto the ground and Sam shivered with the sudden chill and shuddered as he felt his now soaking clothes stick to his wounds. Alastair looked down at him indifferently.

"I forget sometimes when I'm dealing with mortal bodies. Souls are so much different. They require nothing to keep them going; they are only made to feel pain over and over and over again until I get bored. I suppose I should be taking more care with you. We certainly wouldn't want you to fade away too quickly. That would be no fun at all."

Sam glowered up at him. "It doesn't matter. I know you're going to kill me anyway. Uriel asked as much. He just called you so he wouldn't have to get his hands dirty."

"Aw, Sammy," Alastair said mockingly, patting Sam's cheek. "You know that's not true. Don't you worry, boy, there is something, oh, very special in store for you—yes. I'm not at liberty to say yet, true, but you are very important, Sam. Do not underestimate yourself. Sure, your brother may always be my favorite, but I fully understand your importance as well. You'll see, Sam. Just like with your brother, the torture is only the start. There's a bigger picture in store for you too."

Sam's skin crawled at Alastair's words. "What do you mean? You think you're going to turn me into a demon? That I'm going to torture for you?"

Alastair simply smiled. "Not at all, Sammy boy. You are far, far too special for something so mundane."

Sam bit back a retort, but could not help but feel a deep dark apprehension come over him. He didn't like what Alastair seemed to be hinting at. What importance could he offer? Maybe they wanted him to lead their demon army like Yellow-Eyes had. But if that was the case why would the angels be in on it, even if Uriel's ultimate goal was the see Lucifer risen? It just didn't make sense. Sam decided there must be several pieces to this puzzle that he was missing.

Of course, Sam didn't expect to get anything else out of Alastair at this time.

"Tell you what, you've been a trooper so far," Alastair said setting his knife aside. "How about we take a little break?"

Sam groaned, head lolling to one side as he twitched his hands. "You gonna untie me then?"

"Oh, one step at a time, kiddo. You're not nearly broken enough for that yet. Not that you could do much." Sam jerked his head to one side as Alastair reached out to pat his cheek, and the demon chuckled and went over to the other side of the room, messing with something.

"I must say, Sam, I've been moderately impressed so far. You've held on better than I expected you would. But then, you are a Winchester and the one thing I know about Winchesters is that they are an insufferable breed." He rolled his eyes as he turned around, a cup of water in his hand. He came back over to Sam and held up the glass with raised eyebrows. "How about a drink? You must be thirsty."

Sam licked his lips involuntarily and Alastair smiled. Sam felt rather humiliated as the demon slipped a hand behind his head and propped it up several inches so he could drink without choking. The cup was pressed to Sam's lips and he parted them, horribly thirsty, and felt the glorious water trickle over his split lips and parched tongue.

That was when Alastair pulled it away suddenly, and Sam actually whimpered at the loss of it.

"Ah, foolish me," Alastair said, setting the cup on the table of torture implements, and tapping his head as if he had just remembered something. "I forgot. I bet water is a little, hm, bland for you, isn't it, Sammy? Yes, you would much prefer something richer, something more…substantial." He picked up a knife from the table and as Sam watched in confusion and frustration, Alastair turned it to his own forearm and cut a long slice.

The smell hit Sam as soon as the blood pooled in the wound and started to drip onto the floor. His stomach clenched in a painful combination of sickness and need, like when you smelled food after not having eaten for a long time. Sam's pulse pounded in his ears, and his breathing sped up, eyes glazing over. He hadn't realized he craved the blood so much, that he had needed it so badly. Just a little taste, that was all he needed, then he would be able to take down Alastair without having to move from this table.

Alastair was watching with a cruel glee in his eyes. "Look at you. You need this so bad you're practically drooling for it." Alastair slowly moved his arm over the rack and allowed the blood to drip onto Sam's chest. The young man writhed against the restraints, the need for the blood, the heady smell causing him to lose himself.

"Even I'm disgusted," Alastair said, shaking his head in mock pity. "You do realize that all you are is a junkie. You're an addict, Sammy. I'm sure you get off on the power and all, but is it really worth being this desperate? A whimpering mass of need? Where is the strength in that? You can't even get it up without a little taste."

"Al-Alastair," Sam couldn't help but plead, before he clamped his lips shut and turned away, trying to ignore the smell of the blood, which was making his own pound in his ears.

"Aw, what was that, Sammy?" Alastair asked, leaning over him. He lowered his face only inches away from Sam's and then raised his bleeding arm, before smearing it over the right side of Sam's face, clotting in his hair. Sam jerked in his restraints again, moaning as the smell of the blood was almost a worst torment than anything else Alastair had done to him so far.

"I know you want it, but it's not gonna happen, kiddo. Sorry. You really think I'm going to give you something so that you could get the upper hand on me? Please." He pulled his arm away then and Sam watched as the slice slowly healed. He whimpered but tried to get a hold of himself again. He was embarrassed, disgusted, at how much he needed the blood. How much it was ruling his life right now.

Suddenly the smell of it smeared all over his face made him so sick to his stomach he thought he would vomit. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breath through it, but every inhalation only made the smell worse.

Alastair tsked and picked up the cup of water again. "Come on, Sammy, drink a little of this at least. I need you to keep up your strength—there's a lot more getting to know each other that we have to do."

Sam almost refused on principle, but the water was so refreshing, he took two gulps before Alastair pulled it away.

"That's enough. Don't want it coming up during our next session—or you pissing yourself."

Sam glowered at him and Alastair seemed to enjoy the look on his face. He put the cup aside and walked over to another part of the room where there was a metal brazier. Alastair pulled something from his pocket and Sam saw it was his own lighter that the demon must have taken from his jacket. Sam's heartbeat began to race as Alastair lit the fire and picked up an iron poker to stir the coals with.

"You know, out of all the things I did to your brother, I think it was always the burning he hated the most—that's what I always did to him when he was feeling particularly defiant. It worked wonders to knock that defiance right out of him, and the noises that would come out of him…" Alastair sighed blissfully and closed his eyes as if enjoying a particularly fond memory. "Of course it's only to be expected that it would bother him the most. After how your mommy died."

Sam swallowed down the fear and the pain, eyes wet as he again pictured Dean in Hell at the mercy of this horrific monster who had none.

Alastair pulled the poker out of the brazier and turned toward Sam again. "I have to admit, I'm interested to see how little Sammy feels about it. What do you say we give it a whirl?"

"N-no, please, Alastair, don't," Sam tried, struggling against the restraints.

Alastair rolled his eyes. "Really, kid, you've got to know that's not gonna work on me."

He lowered the poker and as it made contact with Sam's skin, he didn't even bother to try and muffle his scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone's support so far!  
> Also, I already said this on FF.net, but I usually open a request box this time of year for anyone who has a Christmas story prompt they would like me to write. I'm going to post the ones from the last two years here this week, but if you have any you might like me to write, just let me know :)


	4. Chapter 4

Dean looked over into the passenger seat where Castiel was currently sitting, looking straight out the windshield. He swallowed hard. The fact that Sam was not there in his usual spot and the reason why was making him almost annoyed with the angel sitting there, even though he was grateful to Cas for helping him.

But they hadn't found anything so far, and they had scoured the town for any sign of angel warding. Of course, worst case scenario, Alastair might have taken Sam far away, even into another state. There wasn't really a reason for that, but it was still a possibility.

Dean had called Bobby again to see if he had found any places with demon sign—a demon as powerful as Alastair would be certain to leave some sign that he was there. Freak storms, cattle mutilation—the usual. But so far Bobby hadn't come up with anything for him. Dean supposed that Alastair could be keeping his trail hard to follow on purpose, but did it even work that way? Maybe he's been wrong about Alastair all along. Maybe Sam had just run off.

But no, he had said he would be back by morning. If Sam was really running away, he wouldn't have had any qualms about telling Dean about it since he never had in the past. Dean was going with his gut, and his big brother intuition on this one. And both were saying that Sammy was in trouble and they needed to find him as soon as possible.

But unfortunately, all the aimless driving meant he had to fuel up eventually so he pulled off the road and drove into a gas station parking lot. Cas frowned and looked over at him.

"What is it? Do you see something?" the angel asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "No, man, I need to fill the car up and grab something to eat. We'll just run out of gas if we keep going, and we need to think of a new game plan, because whatever we're doing now isn't working."

"I haven't been able to detect anything," Cas said, sounding weary.

"Yeah, I know, that's why we need to think of something else." Dean got out of the car and set up the gas pump before going around the Impala and tapping on Cas' door.

"Hey, you stay out here and fill her up, I'm gonna go grab some provisions."

Cas frowned slightly, but did as Dean showed him to fill up the car and Dean strode across the parking lot toward the convenience store.

He grabbed some junk food and a six-pack and went up to pay for it, looking around for the first time with a frown.

It was strangely quiet in there for the middle of the afternoon. In fact, as he looked around, he didn't even see a store clerk anywhere.

"Hey," he called. "I'm ready to pay, unless you just want me to walk out…."

He tossed his stuff on the counter and looked around again, craning his neck over the counter to see if the clerk might be down there for some reason, doing something under the counter.

The first thing Dean saw was a dark puddle on the floor, and then the prone body of the store clerk, lying in the pool of blood.

"Crap," he muttered and spun around, grabbing his gun just as the smell of sulfur heralded the appearance of a demon, coming up behind him. It was wearing a tall, well-built meatsuit, and obviously was pretty happy with the fact that it could look down at Dean's shorter stature.

"Winchester," the demon said with a grin as his eyes flashed black. "It's nice of you to show up."

Dean shot several bullets into the demon, but obviously it did nothing. The demon just grinned wider and stepped forward. Dean backed up until his back hit the counter and then the demon lunged forward, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him bodily into the counter, right on top of the snacks Dean had been planning to buy.

"Dude, those were my doughnuts," Dean grunted.

The demon smirked. "That's gonna be the least of your worries when I'm done with you."

It was then that the door blew in, and the demon was suddenly ripped away from Dean to go flying across the store, slamming into a display of chips. Dean scrambled back to his feet as Castiel strode purposefully toward the demon, looking for all the world like Terminator in a trench coat, his blade raised to land a killing blow.

"Cas, wait!" Dean cried suddenly, running forward to grab the angel's arm. Cas looked at him in confusion and Dean quickly explained his plan. "This guy might know where Alastair is hiding. I say we take him with us and get him to tell us the info we need to know."

Castiel glanced back at the demon and then nodded. "Agreed." He bent and hauled the demon up as if he wasn't at least half a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than the angel. Dean was glad, not for the first time, that Cas was on their side.

The demon sneered. "I don't know anything about Alastair or where he is. He does his own things. He only answers to Lilith."

"Well, we'll be the judge of that," Dean said and nodded outside. "Let's load him up. We've got work to do."

~~~~~~~

They found an old abandoned house on the outskirts of town and Dean quickly drew a devil's trap on the floor and sat a chair there while Cas retrieved their captive demon from the trunk of the Impala. He dragged the demon into the house and shoved him into the chair before standing and glaring him down, arms folded over his chest. The demon sneered back at the angel, but Dean could see a glint of unease in his eyes. He smiled at that.

"So, the license of the guy you're taking for a ride here says your name is Dave, so that's what I'm gonna call you," Dean said, flipping through the wallet he had found in the demon's pocket. "So I'm gonna tell ya, Dave, this can be easy for you or it can be really hard. If you tell us what we want to know, we'll kill you quick, if not, well, we're gonna make sure you tell us what you need to know."

The demon laughed. "Oh yeah? You think I'll talk?"

"I'm thinking you'll be smart here," Dean said firmly. "Even though I know that's a lot to ask."

The demon—Dave—hissed at him. "So is that it? I should be so afraid of you? The great Dean Winchester? The one Alastair wouldn't shut up about; the 'best apprentice he's had in centuries'?"

Dean froze, his stomach clenching, but he kept up his stoic look, and simply shrugged as if he were unbothered. "You think Alastair would exaggerate about something like that? He's a black belt in torture, so if he said I'm that good, then you should probably keep that in mind. And believe me, I can be creative."

Cas glanced over at him, but Dean didn't return the look. He couldn't stand to see the angel's face right now. See the disapproval, the disgust.

The demon laughed. "Oh, I'm sure you can be. But really, you wouldn't want to offend your little winged friend here. He might not take so kindly to seeing all the skills you picked up in Hell."

Cas stepped forward, his gaze steely as he looked at the demon. "Dean will not be doing anything to you. I will. And trust me, I can be just as…creative."

Dean felt a chill do down his spine at the promise in Cas' voice. He also felt a little relief. He hadn't really wanted to go to that place again—especially in front of the angel. Though it wasn't like Cas didn't already know what he had done in Hell, Dean thought with shame and guilt crashing down on him all over again. He shook it off quickly though as he heard the demon laugh.

"Oh really? Come on, Dean, sending in the choirboy? That's your big bad plan? What kind of hunter are you?"

Cas stepped into the trap with the demon and slammed a hand to his forehead. There was an electric feeling in the air like after a lightning strike, and the demon's eyes turned black as he started screaming. Dean's eyes blew wide as Cas kept up whatever he was doing for a few seconds before pulling his hand away and dispassionately watching the demon slump in the chair.

"Tell us where we can find Alastair," Cas said firmly.

"I don't know," the demon gritted through clenched teeth. "I told you, Alastair does his own thing!"

"You must have some way of finding out how to get to him," Dean said, circling the devil's trap threateningly. "Contacting him, I know you demons can do that, can't you?"

The demon snarled. "Make me!"

Cas did the same thing to the demon again and more screams filled the empty house. This time when Cas pulled away he took his blade out, settling it against the demon's throat, and pricking the skin.

"We don't have a lot of time, so I would suggest you cooperate before we get really impatient," Cas growled, pressing harder. The blade looked like it was burning the demon's skin and he flinched, gritting his teeth.

"Why are you in such a hurry to find Alastair, anyway? Want to reunite with your old master, Deano, is that it?" he spat and then pouted mockingly. "Are you pining?"

Dean let out a humorless chuckle. "No way in hell."

The demon smirked. "I will tell you a rumor I heard. I heard that Alastair has found himself a new plaything. Does that make you jealous, Dean? Oh, but wait…" the demon gave a thoughtful look as if trying to fully recall something, his eyes glinting cruelly as they met Dean's. "Isn't it your baby brother? I mean, he's not here, right? So that must mean that he's somewhere else—oh yeah, playing the part of Alastair's newest bitch."

Dean's hands clenched at his side and Cas grabbed the demon's hair, forcing his blade further into the soft part of the demon's throat. "Stop stalling, you abomination," the angel growled. "Tell us where Alastair is."

"I told you, I don't know!" the demon said, his eyes turning to meet Dean's now, a cruel glee in them. "But I wish I did. And I'd take you there gladly too, just to see Dean Winchester's face when he sees what Al has done to his precious little Sammy. Oh, can you imagine? I bet poor baby bro is screaming for you right now, and you have no idea where to find him. How absolutely delicious. How many times do you think Alastair has dug a blade into him? Peeled his skin off? You think he's taken an eye yet? Or maybe his tongue—"

"You son of a bitch," Dean snarled unable to hold it in anymore and lunged forward, reaching for the demon's throat. He slammed Cas out of the way and hit the demon across the face, knocking the chair clean over with the demon still tied to it.

"Dean!" Cas called and grabbed the back of his jacket, yanking him back outside of the circle as the demon just laughed. Dean pulled furiously at the angel's grip, but Cas simply wrapped an arm around his chest and practically hauled him out of the room, closing the door behind them.

"Get off me," Dean snapped, pulling away from Cas' grip.

The angel looked at him with some concern. "He's trying to taunt you Dean. You can't listen to him."

"But you don't think it's true?" Dean demanded, running a hand helplessly through his hair. "Come on, Cas, you can't think Alastair just invited Sam over for tea and crumpets!"

"Dean, I realize Sam is in danger, which is why we're currently doing everything we can to find him. But we can't do that if you let that demon get to you. That's what he wants to see."

"I get that, it's just…" Dean grunted and spun around, burying his face tiredly in his hands, ashamed at his own unprofessionalism. "I'm just so done, man, I can't deal with this crap anymore. I thought I left him in Hell and now he's here and he has my brother. Sammy doesn't…" he stopped for a second, biting his lip. "Sammy doesn't deserve to go through that."

"Neither did you, Dean," Cas said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

Dean turned around to frown at the angel and saw sympathy in his eyes that were typically either emotionless or intense. "I'm not the righteous man you seem to think I am, Cas."

"Maybe not in the way the angels expect you to be," Cas said sincerely. "But I've watched you since you've been in my charge, and all I have seen is a man who continuously makes sacrifices for others. Not only those he cares about most, but strangers too, people you've never even met. You need to have more faith in yourself, Dean."

Dean just shook his head, opened his mouth to say something self-deprecating so Cas might finally see the light, when there was a crash from the room, and he and Cas glanced at each other before surging back inside. Dean with his gun and Cas with his blade.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean cried as he saw the empty devil's trap and the busted chair that the demon had escaped from. "What the hell?"

Cas hurried forward, picking up the chair. "It scraped through the fresh paint when it fell," he said bitterly and threw the broken piece of furniture back down.

"Dammit!" Dean yelled. "Now we have nothing!"

"Not quite," Cas said. "I can track the demon, see where he's going. He may lead us straight to Alastair to warn him, now that he knows we're on Alastair's trail."

"Okay, well let's go, then," Dean said, already heading back out of the house.

"No, Dean, I have to go alone. Stay here and I will be back shortly."

"Cas, wait…" Dean began but there was a flap of wings and the angel disappeared. Dean cursed, left alone in the empty house with nothing but the broken devil's trap.

He headed back out to the Impala after he had cleaned up all the stuff and sat against the trunk impatiently, waiting for the infuriating angel to come back.

He checked his phone but saw no messages from Bobby. He knew the older hunter was doing as much as he could, but Dean was getting increasingly worried about Sam. The longer Alastair had him the more damage he could do—the more the demon could tell him.

Dean felt bile rise in his throat. He knew the kind of games Alastair played. It would be inevitable for him to tell Sam what Dean had done in Hell, and what if Sam never looked at him the same way again, because, how could he? It was one thing to tell his brother he had turned to torturing in Hell, but if Sam really knew what he had done, all the gory details, the things that kept Dean up at night, Sam would be justified in never wanting to speak to, or look at, Dean again.

Cas was wrong, there was nothing righteous about Dean. Not a scrap.

Speaking of the angel, he reappeared suddenly at Dean's side, and nearly gave him a heart attack again.

"Dammit, Cas," Dean muttered.

"We don't exactly have time for me to walk through a door," Cas replied blandly and Dean frowned slightly at the hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Especially now. I followed the demon, and I think I found out where Alastair is."

Dean straightened up, grabbing his keys from his pocket. "Great, let's go then!"

"It's actually not far. We'll be there soon," Cas told him as they climbed into the Impala and Dean started the engine, peeling out back toward the road.

_I'm coming, Sammy_ , he said as he pressed his foot harder into the gas and followed Cas' directions to the place where, hopefully, they would find his brother.

~~~~~~~

Sam's head lolled to the side, exhausted from the pain, and the screaming. His throat was raw, and his voice long past hoarse. The stench of burned fabric from his clothes and, worse, burned flesh from his own body, seared his nostrils and he wasn't sure he would ever get rid of the smell.

Alastair finally put the iron poker aside after decorating Sam's body with various burns in all the most painful and tender places—under his arms, his neck, his belly and ribs, the insides of his thighs, the bottoms of his feet…Sam's body was in agony, and every slight shift he made, the ruined remains of his clothing rubbed against the burns, the melted fibers stuck into his tender flesh.

Worse, Alastair had finally brought tears to his eyes, which Sam was ashamed of, but he was just in so much pain, was exhausted both physically and mentally. His body shook, chilled, and he knew he was probably going into shock from the trauma and the blood loss.

Alastair sighed and shook his head. "Poor Sammy, I suppose I have been rather hard on you, but you've done well so far. Maybe not quite as determined as your brother—I also rather enjoyed his snarky comments—but we'll get there, right, Sammy? We have all the time in the world."

"Why?" Sam croaked, trying to lick his lips, but his mouth was so dry, his tongue just felt like sandpaper, sticking to them instead and only resulting in tearing them open more. "What do you want me for?"

"Oh, some day soon, if everything goes well, you'll see, Sammy. And then you'll see that you have so much more potential than just the boy with the demon blood. I promise, kid, you'll go places."

"Then why are you torturing me?" Sam demanded. "To what purpose?"

Alastair just smiled. "Call it…oh, conditioning, I suppose. I'm going to carve you into a new animal, Sammy."

A surge of defiance bloomed in Sam's chest again and he turned a steely look onto the demon. "It's Sam."

Alastair grinned. "There we go. That's the Winchester defiance I know and love carving out of you. Let's see what fun we can have next, shall we? I'll even let you pick since you've been so cooperative thus far. What do you say, Sam—fingernail removal? Teeth pulling? Or just a good old-fashioned flaying?"

Sam grunted, trying once again to jerk at his restraints without any luck. The only thing he managed was to tear open his wrists and ankles even more.

Alastair sighed. "Well, you're no fun. I guess what everyone says about you is true, you really do have one self-righteous stick up your ass, don't you?" He cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. "Oh, now there's an idea for later..."

"Screw you," Sam said hoarsely.

Alastair smirked and winked. "I'm flattered, kiddo, but you're not really my type."

He turned back toward the table of implements when a pounding sounded out somewhere further in the building. Sam's breath caught in his throat, not sure whether he should feel fear or hope. Maybe Dean had found him. But that idea soon made him even sicker. No, he didn't want Dean to have to face Alastair again, that had been the whole reason he had gotten into this mess. But he'd failed, just like he'd failed in keeping Dean out of Hell in the first place. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't seem to save his brother.

Alastair sighed heavily. "I told everyone not to disturb me. They just can't take a hint, can they? I'll be back."

Sam watched him leave the room and instantly started pulling against his restraints again with all the strength he had left. He gritted his teeth and gave a guttural cry at the effort, but it was no use. His wrists only started to bleed more profusely and the straps across his chest and hips only dug into his wounds, causing agony to spear through him, and more blood to flow, dripping down his sides and joining the puddles already on the floor.

Alastair came back quickly anyway, a very pleased look on his face.

"Well, well, Sammy, it looks like we're going to have some visitors soon."

Sam's heart caught in his throat and he froze, wondering why that made Alastair so happy.

"Apparently Deano and his pet angel are onto us, and will be interrupting our little chat in…oh, about fifteen minutes. So I think we need to get ready for them, don't you?"

Fear speared Sam to the table. "No, don't hurt them. You already have me!"

Alastair chuckled. "Yes, I already have you. Which will make this so much more delicious. A matched set of Winchesters and the insufferable pigeon who stole my best apprentice from me. It practically feels like Christmas."

Sam didn't even know what to say. Not only had he failed and gotten caught in a trap he should have suspected all along, but Dean and Castiel were going to do the same and it was all his fault. A tear slid down his cheek unbidden as he imagined how this would destroy his brother.

"Aw, cheer up, kiddo," Alastair told him, wiping the tear from his cheek with a thumb still sticky from Sam's own blood. "I'll make sure you get plenty of quality time with Dean before I take him back to Hell. Maybe he'll even show you a few of his tricks, eh?"

Sam choked on a sob, and closed his eyes. How could he have screwed this up so badly?


	5. Chapter 5

Alastair stepped outside the building for a moment, glancing around to await the arrival of Uriel. When the angel finally appeared in a flap of wings, the demon sneered in disgust. Alastair really hated working with one of the pigeons, but, well, the enemy of my enemy… Didn't mean he had to like it.

Uriel glared back, his feelings obvious mutual. "I hope you have a good reason for summoning me," he said.

Alastair smiled. "Dean Winchester and your pal Castiel are on their way here. One of my demons warned me after they got to him. Obviously, his position has since been…terminated."

Uriel huffed an impatient sigh and shook his head. "You can't handle a human and one angel?"

"On the contrary," Alastair said, bristling slightly. "I'd love a chance to chat with both of them. But I want a crack at Dean first without the angel hovering around trying to sway him to his side." Alastair rolled his eyes.

Uriel gave a rather put-upon expression. "I can distract Castiel briefly if that's what you want."

Alastair smiled. "All I ask is that you leave him alive."

Uriel glowered but didn't protest either. "We'll talk later," he said. "I can feel them on their way."

Alastair looked off down the road. No one was in sight yet, but he figured that Uriel probably was right.

He turned around and went back into the abandoned factory. When he came back into the room where he had set up shop, he saw with some annoyance that Sam was once again trying to get free. The boy really didn't know when to give up. Alastair hadn't even sealed off his wounds for a while so the stupid human was bleeding himself out only more, in his weak attempts to free himself.

"Oh, come now, Sammy," Alastair shook his head with a weary sigh. "You should know by now this isn't going to get you anywhere."

"I'm not going to let you get Dean again," Sam croaked, shaking his head firmly. "I'm not."

Alastair rolled his eyes. "No matter what you say it isn't going to make a difference, kiddo. Once Dean get's here, you'll see that he's still fully and completely mine." Alastair smiled then, just thinking of it. Thinking of how devastated Sam would be when his brother came over to Alastair's side again. He might just finally give up. And if Alastair could get Dean to turn the knife onto Sam himself…well, then, he could only imagine the heartbreak and betrayal that would ensue.

"Anyhoo, no stopping it now, they'll be here soon. And, to be frank, Sammy, you're not exactly in a position to do anything about it." Alastair said, sorting through the tray of his instruments, now mostly coated in Sam's blood. "And if you're expecting a miraculous rescue from the angel, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed there too. Uriel decided he needed a chat with Castiel himself, and, well, I said I wanted him alive, but that doesn't mean Uriel will leave him in pristine condition either."

"You son of a bitch," Sam rasped.

"You know, your threats really lose their vinegar when you can hardly talk from screaming," Alastair said and finally found what he was looking for. He picked up a rag and wound it several times corner to corner. "May as well just shut you up then."

Sam grunted in protest as Alastair forced the rag between his teeth and tied it viciously behind Sam's head, effectively gagging him. Sam moaned a bit, and shook his head, but it was too tight for him to even hope to get it free, the cloth cutting into the sides of his mouth. He finally lay back on the rack, panting through his nose, eyes closed, looking deliciously defeated.

Alastair patted him cheek. "Don't worry, Sammy. It will all be over soon. Or, well, really, it will just all be the beginning, I suppose."

He watched Sam shudder with hatred and desperation and then waited for Dean to show up.

~~~~~~~~

Dean looked out the Impala's windshield at the abandoned factory.

"Are these the only kinds of places that monsters can think of to hide out?" He mused out loud. Because, seriously, it was getting downright predictable.

Cas still sat in the passenger seat. "Alastair is in there," he assured him. "And it's heavily warded against angels."

"Guess that means I'm going in solo," Dean said, trying to sound indifferent, but his stomach sickened at the thought of going in there and facing down Alastair alone. What if he froze? Then he'd never be able to help Sammy.

"Dean, I won't let you face Alastair alone," Cas told him firmly. "All you have to do is break the warding and I'll be able to go in with you. There should be a sigil directly inside the entrance and once you break it I should be able to get inside."

Dean wet his lips and nodded. "Okay. You sense any other demons?"

Cas gazed toward the building for a long moment but eventually shook his head. "No, I believe Alastair is the only one in there."

Dean nodded slightly. "He always did like to work alone."

Cas finally turned toward the hunter. "Dean, are you sure you can do this?"

"That's my brother in there, Cas," Dean said firmly. "I have to."

"You don't truly have to," the angel told him. "As soon as you break the warding, I can go in easily enough."

"Yeah, and take down Alastair alone? Last time you went up against him he beat you into the floor of that barn." An indignant look crossed the angel's face, but he didn't argue either.

"You shouldn't have to do this."

"Why, because you're my guardian angel?" Dean demanded, then another thought struck him. "Or is it more like you're afraid I'll go dark side again if I have a chat with Alastair?"

"Dean, that's not…"

"Isn't it, though?" Dean demanded. "Because let's be real, Cas, you all think I'm the savior of mankind or whatever, but the things I did in Hell…there aren't words. Why do you think I can't sleep at night? All I can hear are the screams of those souls I tortured." He swallowed hard, looking down at the hands he had clenched in his lap, just imagining blood dripping from them. "I can't be that person again, Cas. Even if I wanted to be." He shook his head. "I just don't get it. You all think Sam's an abomination, but he's never done anything but try and help people. While, I, the righteous man, am the one who enjoyed torturing people."

"Dean…" Cas began hesitantly with a small pained sigh but then he frowned and looked over his shoulder, suddenly alert.

"What is it?" Dean demanded, looking as well, but not seeing anything.

"It's…Uriel," Cas said, his frown deepening. "He's near."

"Uriel? What the hell is Chuckles doing out here?"

Cas shook his head, already getting out of the car. "I don't know, but I need to find out. You should go and break the warding." He reached into his trench coat and pulled out his angel blade. He held it for a moment before handing it to Dean hilt first. "You should take this, just in case."

Dean frowned, not sure if he should protest or not. He didn't really want to say anything, but he thought that Cas might need the blade against Uriel. "Thanks, but I got my own weapons."

"Nothing that will protect you against Alastair," Cas said firmly and held the blade out more insistently. "Take it. And go. I don't know why Uriel is here, but it may not be a good idea for him to see you. I will run interference and meet you as soon as you break the warding."

Dean had a bad feeling about this, but he finally took the offered blade and gave the angel a sharp nod. "Alright. But, Cas? Watch your back."

The angel shared a look with him before he disappeared with a flap of wings.

Dean sighed and strode off toward the entrance to the abandoned factory, gripping the blade tightly.

He checked the door, found it unlocked. Not really surprising, Alastair probably wasn't too troubled with keeping anyone out since the only person likely to show up was Dean himself. Dean swallowed down his fear again at that thought. He had to get in, break the sigils, and then he and Cas could storm in, grab Sam, and get the hell out of there.

Still, he went inside cautiously, half expecting Alastair to be hiding in the shadows. But he could see no one, and he breathed a small sigh of relief, as he started to look for the sigils.

There were four of them, one on each side of the door, one above it, and one on the ground. Dean took care of the ones on the ground and the doorframes first then had to find a stepladder to take out the last one. After he had done that he waited impatiently for Cas to appear but the seconds dragged into minutes and the angel was still a no-show.

"Come on, Cas," he muttered under his breath, looking around with increasing worry. Was the angel still talking to Uriel?

"Oh, this can't be good," Dean muttered as the minutes stretched on even longer and he finally stepped outside to go find Cas and instantly spotted him across the lot, facing off with Uriel. Dean felt a sudden horror, glancing down at Cas' blade in his hand and was about to shout at the angels in some hope of a distraction, but at just that moment, as Dean watched helplessly, too far away to do anything, Uriel stabbed his blade right into Cas' body.

~~~~~~~

Castiel landed on the edge of the lot at the same moment that Uriel did, both angels looking at each other cautiously.

"Castiel, what are you doing here?" the dark angel asked, some annoyance clear in his voice.

"I could ask the same of you," Castiel replied, narrowing his eyes.

Uriel shook his head. "I heard that Alastair was hiding out in the vicinity. Thought I would look into it, try and find him, see if he was the one killing angels."

Castiel shook his head. "You and I both know that's not the case. You saw the bodies, Uriel. They were killed with angel blades. That was not the work of demons. Now tell me, why are you here? And do not tell me it is to find Alastair."

"Is that not why you are here, Castiel?" Uriel turned around on him. "Or are you here just to tell me how pointless this venture is?"

"Alastair has Sam Winchester," Castiel told him. "I'm here to get him out."

Uriel chuckled darkly. "You can't be serious. You're here to save the demonic abomination in some pitiful mirror of how you rescued his brother from Hell? Oh, Castiel, it makes me sad to see how far you have fallen. I suppose Dean is here too. You are far too close to your charges."

Castiel ignored him, a pit forming in his stomach as the whole picture was starting to come together. "I think we both know that there is a traitor among us, Uriel," he said pointedly.

The other angel inclined his head slightly. "You're not wrong, Castiel."

Castiel shook his head. "I suspected you had…ulterior motives for a while, but, the fact that you are here now, when you have no other reason to be tells me all I need to know. Tell me just one thing, brother: why?"

"You want to know why?" Uriel asked, sudden bitterness in his voice. "Because look at Heaven, Castiel! God is, for all we know, gone! When was the last time anyone saw Him? And we have these orders, but how do we know who they are truly coming from?"

"That is blasphemy," Castiel growled.

"But it's the truth," Uriel insisted. "And I think you know it too." He held out a hand. "You have always been a good friend, Castiel, I could use someone like you."

"To do what? Rebel?" Castiel demanded. "Is that what you're trying to do, Uriel? Get the angels to rebel with you? And what, you kill the ones who refuse?"

Uriel smiled bitterly. "Something like that. But it's not about rebellion, Castiel. It's about a new order." He sighed and a faraway look came over his face. "Do you not remember him, our brother? Lucifer? He is exactly what we need to lead us to a new, better, existence."

Castiel's heart went cold. "Lucifer?! You cannot be serious, Uriel—you are trying to raise him?"

"Michael, Lucifer—will it really make a difference in the end? Besides, wouldn't you rather have Lucifer than that stuck up politician, Michael?"

"You cannot do this," Castiel said. "Besides, we will stop the Seals from being broken, the apocalypse does not have to happen."

"How did you become so naïve, brother?" Uriel asked with disgust. "Of course it will happen. It was written. And if your think your precious human pets will survive it, then, well, you are even more foolish than I took you for."

Castiel shook his head. "You were the one who lured Sam out to be captured by Alastair, weren't you? Why would you do that? Why would you work with Alastair?"

"He's a means to an end, and Sam Winchester has a part to play yet."

Castiel frowned. "I don't understand."

Uriel gave a small smile. "There is much you do not understand, much you do not know."

"I can't let you do this, Uriel," Castiel said firmly, suddenly wishing that he hadn't been so hasty to give Dean his blade.

"So I take it you're not going to join me?" Uriel asked.

Castiel shook his head. "I still have faith that the Apocalypse will be won by the right side. That we can prevent Lucifer from being risen all together."

Uriel shook his head with a humorless chuckle. "Again, so naïve, brother. Unfortunately, you realize I can't let you live now that you know."

The blade swung toward Castiel in a blur. He just barely managed to step backwards, and brought his fists up, ready for the next blow to come.

Uriel shook his head. "You don't even have your blade, Castiel? I must have misjudged you all these years after all, you are more foolish than I thought."

Castiel dodged another swipe, just barely. "It seems neither of us knew each other very well after all," he replied bitterly.

Uriel drove a fist into Castiel's face and he staggered back before he regained his feet and surged forward, kicking Uriel's knee and delivering his own punch to the other angel's face. Uriel's head snapped to the side and that only seemed to anger him more. He spat blood on the ground.

"I really am sorry I have to do this, Castiel. But you don't really leave me any choice. Goodbye brother."

Castiel dodged the blow that Uriel swung at him, but realized too late that it was a feint. Uriel caught him around the throat and slammed the blade into his middle. Castiel shifted slightly so that the blade pierced his side instead of anything more vital, but still, the pain ripped through him and he cried out, wrenching himself backwards, off of the blade. He clasped a hand to the bleeding wound. It would not heal quickly, not a stab this deep with an angel blade. He staggered to his knees, unable to support his own weight. Uriel's fist clenched in his hair, wrenching his head back.

"Last chance, Castiel," he said.

The angel steeled himself. "I'm not going to join your foolish crusade, Uriel. You'll figure out exactly how foolish it is when the other angels take you down."

Uriel sighed. "Come now, Castiel, you don't truly think it will go that way. I think deep down, you believe I have a real chance of doing what I plan to do, and that's really why you're scared."

"You keep thinking that if that's what keeps you warm at night," Castiel replied firmly, and then braced himself for the final blow, hoping somehow that Dean would be able to defeat Alastair on his own and rescue his brother. Feeling some remorse that he would not be able to help his charges after all.

"Hey, junkless!"

Uriel's eyes went wide as an angel blade slammed into his shoulder from behind. The only thing that saved Uriel was the fact he was already turning around, otherwise, the blade would have gone straight through his heart. He let go of Castiel and spun to see Dean standing behind him, holding Castiel's blade that was already dark with Uriel's blood. Uriel's shoulder was leaking grace as his face went dark.

"You insufferable, ignorant, little mud monkey!" Uriel snarled and lunged at the hunter.

"Dean!" Castiel yelled, and tried to haul himself to his feet as Uriel backhanded Dean across the face, flinging him to the ground to land heavily with a painful-sounding thud. The angel blade was knocked from his grip, skittering over the ground.

Castiel caught his breath and tried to force his legs underneath him in order to get to his blade as Uriel stalked toward Dean like a wildcat.

"I am through with you getting in the way, Winchester," Uriel growled, and kicked Dean heavily in the stomach, flipping the hunter onto his back. "So I'm going to enjoy doing you in. After all, if they decide they need you, they can always put you back together. Not that you're worth the effort. You're already broken beyond repair."

Castiel got his fingers around his blade as Dean grunted, hefting himself up onto his knees to glower at Uriel.

"You're so full of crap," Dean told him, spitting blood onto the ground.

"Am I?" Uriel asked, cocking a cruel eyebrow. "Then why is it you have to resort to hiding behind Castiel's wings like a frightened child. You can't even face the demon who tortured you to rescue your own brother?"

Dean snarled and heaved himself upright, just as Castiel made his move. He lunged forward and slammed his blade right through Uriel's neck.

The angel stopped, a surprised gurgle in his throat before he collapsed.

"Dean, shut your eyes!" Castiel commanded.

The hunter quickly ducked his head against his arm as Uriel's grace exploded in a supernova. Soon all that was left was the fallout. Uriel's dead vessel, and the burned outlines of his wings on the ground. Castiel knelt with a deep sigh, retrieving his blade, still red with Uriel's blood.

"Goodbye, brother," he said bitterly. He wasn't really sure what to feel. Part of him had suspected Uriel wasn't quite content for a while, but he had never suspected true disloyalty. And siding with Lucifer…it was unthinkable. Especially since Uriel had said he killed all the angels he had approached who told him no. Did that mean there were also ones who had said yes? Castiel felt suddenly weary at the thought that he would inevitably have to track them all down and see them taken care of. It would compromise everything if there were rebels in their midst.

But right now, they had another problem at hand.

Castiel rose and his left leg nearly collapsed underneath of him. He hissed at the surprising pain, and clapped a hand to his still bleeding wound.

"Whoa," Dean was also on his feet, and he seemed to instinctively reach out and grab Castiel's elbow, steadying him. "You okay? That doesn't look too good."

Castiel grunted, peeling his hand away and peering through the tear in his vessel's clothing to inspect the wound. "It is but a minor issue. Wounds dealt with angel blades are not easily healed, but I will still be able to fight." He then turned to look the elder Winchester in the eye. "I believe I owe you some thanks. If you have not shown up when you did, Uriel may have finished me."

"Yeah, well, you're not the only guardian around here."

Castiel smiled ever so slightly at that, and then nodded toward the abandoned factory, pulling away from Dean's grip to stand on his own. He bent to pick up Uriel's dropped angel blade and handed it to the hunter. "Let's go rescue Sam."

Dean nodded and took the blade in a firm grip.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean cast a worried glance at Cas as they made their way toward the factory that should now allow the angel inside. Cas was limping from the wound in his side, and Dean was wary of the light glinting through the tear in his shirt. It looked like when Uriel had been about to explode—and boy had that been a shock. Not that Dean was surprised the douchebag betrayed the angels and went dark side, but he was still reeling from the fact that the angel was dead, and that Cas had been the one to kill him.

"Can you get through?" Dean asked Cas as they reached the door.

Cas simply stepped inside easily enough, though he staggered slightly, taking a deep breath as he crossed the threshold.

"You good?" Dean asked worriedly, eyes darting around for any sign of Alastair lurking in the shadows.

"Yes, there are more sigils here sapping my power, but we don't have time to find them. With any luck we can take Alastair by surprise like last time."

Dean glanced over at Cas at his last words, knowing that 'last time' could only mean when the angels had rescued him from Hell. He swallowed hard. He didn't remember any of that. He wondered why, out of all the horrific things that had stuck with him from Hell, he never remembered that.

"Alastair is this way, I can sense him," Cas said and started off through a darkened corridor.

Dean clutched Uriel's blade tighter, but felt better that he and Cas both had something that would hopefully do damage to the demon. His hand was suddenly slick with the thought of Alastair, and he had to wipe his palm on his jeans, only to have the rest of his body break out into a cold sweat when he heard a pained, muffled cry from further down the hall. Memories of Hell instantly flashed through his mind, but worse, because this time, it was a cry he knew all too well.

"Sammy," he murmured, steeling himself for the inevitable. He felt Cas' eyes on him and he glanced back at the angel, swallowing hard.

"Dean, are you ready?" There was an almost gentle tone to Cas' voice that made Dean somewhat indignant, which gave him enough drive to screw his courage to the sticking place.

"Yeah, let's get him out of there," he said.

Together, they advanced shoulder to shoulder, until they came to the door and Castiel simply raised a hand, smashing it inward.

Dean's breath caught in his throat as they saw into the room. The first thing he registered, obviously, was Sammy tied to a rack, not all that un-similar to the one he had been on in Hell. His brother was covered in blood, with pain in his wide eyes, bound with the straps and manacles, with a gag tied tightly around his head, cutting viciously into his cheeks.

But what froze him in his tracks was Alastair standing next to the rack, his all-too-familiar razor, also bloodied, in hand, as he ran a finger over the edge to check for sharpness. His eyes met Dean's and a slow grin spread over his face.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my wayward apprentice, finally come to pay me a visit. Sammy and I were getting anxious, we were afraid that something, hm, untoward had happened to you."

Sam's head rolled to the side, eyes deep with mostly relief that was swiftly battling with horror and guilt. He grunted softly past his gag, and Dean recognized it as Sam saying his name. He would always know when Sam called him.

"That's right, Sammy, aren't you happy big brother is here? I am," Alastair started forward slowly, still stroking the razor. Dean was frozen in place, unable to move, cold sweat dripping down his spine. "Now we can finally show little Sammy what we did in Hell. What do you say, Deano? Want to do a little show and tell?"

Dean's mouth was dry, and his hand was clenched around the blade, but couldn't seem to find any faculties to use it. That was when Cas took a purposeful step in front of him.

"Stay away from him, Alastair," the angel growled, and Dean felt a sudden static in the air, a slight ringing beginning in his ears. "You will not take Dean Winchester again."

"Oh, and what are you going to do about, it?" Alastair sneered. "You're wounded, Castiel, and the handy little sigils I stuck up are eating away at your energy. I know you can feel it. Do you really think you'll be a match for me? I mean, last time in the barn, it didn't go so well for you. And I don't see any pretty red-headed angels to save you now with a light show."

Castiel's only answer was to raise his blade, and the ringing sound strengthened. Cas started to glow, and Dean took a staggering step away from him, the hair on his arms standing on end as if charged.

"I won't tell you again, Alastair."

"Oh, well, in that case…" The demon suddenly lunged forward, and swung the razor at Cas. The angel ducked, and leapt to one side, swiping out with his blade. But he was clumsy with his injury and Alastair simply stepped inside the swing and grabbed Cas' wrist. Dean watched, stunned for only a second as the two powerful supernatural beings sparred for the upper hand before he lunged into the fight as well, and went to stab Alastair in the back, hoping he might have as much luck as he had with Uriel.

The demon, though, simply threw Castiel to the ground and grabbed Dean's wrist. He wrenched it to one side, causing the hunter to cry out and drop the blade from nerveless fingers. Alastair then grabbed him by the front of his shirt, lifting him off his feet.

"We'll chat in a minute, Dean, let me handle the halo first." He then threw Dean backwards and pinned him to the wall with his demon mojo. Dean strained against it, but Alastair was too strong. He could only watch helplessly as Alastair advanced on Cas who had lost his blade as well, now. Alastair hit him twice, hard, in the side of the face, and Cas fell to his knees. The demon then kicked him in his wounded side, and Cas crumpled, letting out a rather horrifying half-bitten back cry. Alastair simply reached down then, almost nonchalant, and dug his fingers into Cas' throat, hauling him upright.

"I've wanted to get my hands on you for a long time, angel," Alastair said as he forced Cas against one of the girders holding up the ceiling. There was a pair of cuffs hanging there, and the demon forced Cas' hands up and locked them in place. The angel slumped, panting, and Dean watched in horror as Alastair grabbed a fistful of his hair and wrenched his head up.

"Not so tough now, are you? These cuffs are sigiled with Enochian binding magic; you're not going anywhere, birdie. Though really, you weren't so tough back in the pit either, were you? It was only by luck you escaped. Tell me, how did your wings fair from all that long exposure to hellfire?"

Dean's eyes widened and he looked closer at Cas. Of course, he couldn't see the angel's wings; he'd only caught a brief glimpse of their shadows when they'd first met, but the reaction the angel gave at Alastair's words said enough. Dean felt even sicker about the whole situation than he already did.

Alastair rolled his eyes. "Alright, play the strong silent type for now. You'll be screaming soon enough. First, I've got more important business to see to." Dean's stomach dropped to his feet as Alastair finally turned his whole focus on the hunter. "It's good to see you again, Dean. I apologize for the mess…" He nodded toward Sam who had been watching everything though half closed eyes, looking only partly conscious. Dean swallowed hard as he watched his brother shaking uncontrollably. "Your brother was a lovely subject, but not nearly as much fun as you."

Dean's jaw twitched and he shook his head. "I'll kill you, Alastair."

"Oh, will you now?" Alastair asked with a slight chuckle, something akin to glee in his face. "Tell me something, Dean, do you think you actually…can?" He strode forward until he was only inches from Dean. "I mean, all that time we spent down there in Hell. You were my most promising student, I offered you a place by my side for all eternity—I don't think you ever truly realized how much of an honor that really was. But…" he leaned close until he was right in Dean's face, hand coming up and gripping Dean's chin so he couldn't turn aside. "I'm willing to offer you another chance—just one—to take me up on that offer. Show me you still have the knack for knifework and I'll take you back to Hell right now. No rack, straight to the VIP. You won't have to worry about angels and the apocalypse. You only have to carve." He leaned close to Dean's ear and the hunter's skin crawled as if he were covered in insects. "I know how much you appreciated the simplicity of that, Dean. Just a blade in your hand, meeting out justice to those who were deserving."

Dean closed his eyes for a long moment, trying to focus himself, think about what he needed to do. It would gall him to say yes to Alastair—he wasn't even sure he could physically admit it—but if he could make the demon think he was going along with him, then maybe he would have a chance to kill him, and get Sam and Cas the hell out of there.

He finally opened his eyes again, trying to put a little steel back into them, wetting his lips before he spoke. "No rack?" he forced out.

A smile spread over Alastair's face as he slid his hand down Dean's cheek, making the hunter want to vomit. "Of course not, my boy. You are worth far more to me at my side, as my worthy apprentice, than you would be wasted as a plaything. Now that I know your true potential."

Dean shuddered, but forced himself to nod. "Then I'll do it."

"Dean," Cas called out as Sam grunted past his gag at the same time, making Alastair smile even wider. The demon looked over to see their reaction at the same time Dean caught Sam's eye and winked, telling him he was bluffing and to get ready. Sammy, even though he was barely holding on to consciousness, blinked back, understanding.

"You won't regret your decision, Dean, I promise," Alastair said with a smile as he finally released Dean from the wall. The elder Winchester slumped, gasping in a sharp breath from his constricted lungs, and it was everything he could do not to shy away as Alastair reached out a hand to steady him.

"Now what?" Dean asked. Alastair was wrong; he was already regretting his decision, even though didn't even mean it.

"Now, you prove you are still worth my time," Alastair told him and pressed a hand into Dean's back, guiding him over to the rack that held Sam, the table of instruments beside it. They were all crusted with blood. Among those tools, lay Ruby's knife that Sam must have brought with him with the intention of killing Alastair. Yeah, that had gone over really well.

Now that he was closer, he could fully see the horrific damage that had been done to Sam. His little brother was bloody from head to toe, the tears in his clothing showing the ruined flesh beneath. Stab wounds, slices, and burns…each one like a horrible memory to Dean who knew exactly what each had felt like when they marred his brother's body. Dean reached out involuntarily to touch Sam's forearm, squeezing slightly in reassurance. Sam's face crumpled, and tears slid down his cheeks. Dean's heart broke in two.

"Aw, how touching," Alastair taunted. "I can only imagine how hard it is for you, Sammy, having your brother come here to rescue you, but turning to my side after all. Absolutely tragic."

Dean wanted nothing more than to snatch up the demon knife and stab Alastair in the throat with it, but he needed to bide his time. Alastair would be suspecting something like that. He had to go along with him for a little bit longer and then he would get his chance.

"Now, Dean, here's the part that's most important," Alastair said. "I need proof that you truly want this, that you're not going to just think you can try and play me. So we're going to do a little, hm, demonstrative interview so to speak." He reached toward the table and plucked up the familiar razor that he had put into Dean's hand that first day he had gotten off the rack in Hell. He did the same thing now, grabbing Dean's wrist in one hand and pressing the handle of the blade into his palm with the other. Alastair's fingers were cold and coated with blood—Sam's blood. He forced Dean's fingers to curl around the handle.

"There we go. Just like riding a bike," Alastair practically cooed. "Now, you know the drill, Dean. You have a prisoner strapped to a rack, and you're going to make him pay for his sins."

It took a second before realization registered with Dean, and his eyes widened with horror. He took a step back from the rack. "What? No way in hell!"

Alastair rolled his eyes. "Well, it was worth a try, I suppose. Of course, you know that Sammy is keeping secrets from you. You aren't even a tiny bit curious as to know what they are? You know you can so easily get the answers from him."

The way Sam's breathing became erratic, whistling past the gag partially blocking his airway, before he started squirming helplessly on the rack made Dean want to throw up. He threw the razor onto the tray to let his brother know he had no intention of using it on him, because, god, how could he even think that?

"Sam and I might need to talk about a couple things, but I'm not doing it here, and I sure as hell am not gonna torture it out of him."

Alastair muttered something under his breath, then sighed. "Well, there's only one other option then." He nodded toward where Cas was still chained up, watching the proceedings with a seemingly blank expression, but Dean could tell he was carefully calculating how this would go.

"The angel who stole you from me, who destroyed your beautiful potential," Alastair hissed in Dean's ear, taking the hunter by the shoulder and turning him around. "The one who is ruining your life. Don't you want to be free of his incessant demands?"

Dean swallowed hard, his eyes meeting the angel's as Cas stared at him, looking almost wary as if unsure where he stood.

"Cas isn't like the other angels," Dean said instead of giving Alastair an answer. "He's not a complete dick."

Alastair chuckled. "Oh, please, Dean, you aren't this naïve. Do you know how many secrets they're keeping from you? About why they really brought you back? Why they would bother with such a broken man drenched in the blood of the damned?"

"Alastair, stop," Cas growled, as Dean's stomach flipped. Alastair was, after all, only voicing the same things he himself had wondered.

"Hit a nerve, did I?" Alastair asked, delighted. He turned to Sam. "You remember what we talked about, don't you, kiddo? About what your brother really did down there?"

Dean's throat burned with bile he fought to swallow back, unable to help himself from looking at Sam's eyes, so sad, so broken, but somewhere in there, still defiant. Dean wasn't sure what hurt him more, the grief he saw on his behalf or the fact that Sam obviously still believed there was something good in him.

Alastair strode back to the rack and hooked a finger under Sam's gag, pulling it free with a sharp tug. "Do you want to enlighten Dean?" the demon asked. "He may take it better coming from you."

Sam shook his head. Alastair leaned over him. "No? You sure?"

Sam stayed silent and Alastair suddenly reached out and dug his fingers into a wound in Sam's stomach and the younger Winchester howled in pain. Dean surged forward, but Alastair held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"Ah-ah, Dean, relax. Just giving punishment where punishment is due." He turned around, fingers dripping with Sam's blood as Dean's brother panted and whimpered on the rack behind him. "I think I would rather hear the angel tell you himself. So, Castiel, you're gonna spill your guts eventually…one way or another. Why not start with this?"

The angel only stared at him balefully, but wouldn't meet Dean's eyes. The hunter began to feel even sicker than this situation was already making him.

Alastair rolled his eyes. "Oh, you are all such chatterboxes. Fine, I'll start it off. What everyone failed to tell poor Dean was that his action, getting off my rack and torturing souls in turn, was the First Seal."

Dean swung around to stare at the demon as Cas slumped further and Sam choked on a sob. "The First Seal? What the hell does that mean?"

"Oh, dear boy, I think you know," Alastair said, and reached out to cup one side of Dean's face. "You, the so-called, 'Righteous Man', broke the First Seal by spilling blood in Hell. You started this whole party. I for one am eternally grateful to you."

Dean felt like the floor was sinking beneath his feet. He jerked away from Alastair's touch. "I—I broke the f-first Seal?" he whispered. "I…started all of this?!"

"Isn't that right, Castiel?" Alastair called over Dean's shoulder. "Tell him the truth."

There was silence and Dean spun around with bated breath. "Cas?" he demanded.

True pain washed over the angel's face, more emotion that Dean had ever seen from him. "Yes," he finally admitted in a quiet, defeated tone. "It's true."

"Then why?" Dean demanded, tears pricking at the backs of his eyes at the enormity of this news. "Why did you even bother getting me out?"

"Now you're asking the real questions, I'm proud of you, boy," Alastair smirked. "Why indeed, Castiel? Why did you steal my apprentice from me, if he was already corrupted by the pit? Why did you bother putting your disgusting mark on him?" Dean's hand subconsciously went to his shoulder where the handprint scar was and Alastair nodded. "Don't worry, kiddo, we'll get rid of that too," he said with no little satisfaction.

A heavy silence fell over the room, and Alastair strode over to Castiel and yanked his head up so that he was forced to look at Dean. "Tell the boy, Castiel. It's only fair, now that so much has already been revealed."

Cas gritted his teeth. "It's because it is written that the Righteous Man who started it is the only one who can end it. We needed you to stop the apocalypse, Dean."

"Ah, there we go; pure, simple truth," Alastair breathed as if invigorated. "So you see, Deano, the angels only pulled you out because you were useful to them. They don't really care about you. None of them do. Not even your pal, Castiel."

"Dean, that's n—agh!" Castiel's protest was cut off with a cry of agony as Alastair dug his fingers into the stab wound in Cas' side, opening it up completely again and causing it to bleed anew.

Dean saw the angel blade lying a few feet away from him. He bent to snatch it up, a plan forming in his mind, but he was going to have to make it look good. "You know what, Cas, save it. Screw you and your apology. I knew you never really cared. You're really no better than Uriel, are you?"

Alastair made a sound of interest, a small smirk appearing on his lips as he stepped away from Castiel as Dean advanced, angel blade held at the ready.

"Dean, stop!" Sam croaked.

Dean ignored him, wondering if the kid was playing along, or if he thought Dean was actually going to carve the angel up. "Well, let me tell you this. You and the other angels, you can all take your destiny crap and shove it up your asses. I'm not gonna play your games anymore. I'm not some pawn you can move around wherever you want."

He slammed the pommel of the blade into the side of Cas' face and the angel's head snapped around. Dean grabbed his chin and leaned in close to his ear, so that hopefully Alastair wouldn't be able to hear. "Play along, dammit."

He stepped back and looked Cas head to toe, as if he were trying to figure out where to begin. Really he was trying to figure out how best to approach this, and hoping that an angel blade would be able to break through those cuffs. Alastair came to stand beside him, his hand on Dean's shoulder as he leaned in close, offering suggestions.

"Remember what I told you, Dean, start slow and work your way up, save the best for last." He stepped forward and loosened Cas' tie, then grabbed the angel's shirt and yanked it open to expose his chest. "Work with what you have now, and later, I'll show you a neat trick with angel wings. Make me proud, boy."

"Oh, I'll make you proud," Dean said, stepping closer to Cas and hoping the angel was getting the point that he was bluffing. "But first, I think a little revenge is in order." He grabbed Cas' right wrist and held the blade up, ready as if he were going to shove it through Cas' hand, and then slammed it forward at the link holding the manacle to the chain. There was a clink, Cas flinched, and then his arm fell to the side.

Dean wasted no time. Alastair was still trying to process what happened and Dean simply swung around with the blade and slammed it into the demon's shoulder. Alastair howled in pain and Dean dodged a punch thrown at him before diving for the second angel blade that had been lost on the floor during the fight earlier.

"You, filthy, little traitor!" Alastair seethed as Dean threw himself across the room again and slammed that blade into Cas' other chain, effectively freeing the angel. Cas staggered, but took the blade from Dean just as Alastair ripped the other from his shoulder and started toward them.

"Dean, get Sam out of here, I'll hold him off," Cas told him, falling into a ready crouch.

"That's right, Dean, run like the little coward you are!" Alastair sneered and flicked his wrist, causing Dean to go flying backwards to crash into the cart of torture implements with a pained grunt.

"Dean," Sam whispered, as Dean scrambled up and leaned over the rack, looking at how Sam was strapped in.

"Sammy," Dean choked out, his voice breaking. He cupped the side of his brother's bloody face and stroked a hand through his hair briefly. "Don't worry, kiddo, I'm gonna get you out of here. Gotta find the key."

"It was Uriel…didn't, didn't mean to run off. Just thought I could…help," Sam said miserably, eyes barely open.

"Shh, it's okay, Sammy, we know. You don't have to apologize." He crouched to look through the items from the overturned cart, hoping to find a key.

That was when Cas came flying through the air and slammed so hard against the wall beside Dean that the cement blocks cracked. Dean stared in shock and horror as the angel lay in a bloody heap on the ground, angel blade gone, as Alastair strode over with a low chuckle.

"You angels are all the same," the demon said as he bent and grabbed Cas around the throat. The angel struggled weakly, clutching at Alastair's wrists as the demon pulled him up and off his feet, but he had taken a hell of a beating, and Dean realized, with a sick feeling, that he wasn't in much capacity to fight back against Alastair at this moment and Dean still couldn't find a key to get Sam out of there. They were all screwed.

"So self righteous," Alastair continued, hefting Castiel further before slamming him back against a girder that had a metal spike or nail sticking out of it, effectively impaling him right between the shoulder blades. Cas let out a choked off cry, and Alastair chuckled gleefully.

"Now the only question is, should I see what these angel blades can really do to you? Or do I just… send you back to heaven?" Alastair contemplated as he brought up one of the blades and began to dig it into Cas' clavicle, slowly cutting downwards, leaving a line of red and glowing blue. "Decisions, decisions."

Dean's hand landed on something else among the items on the floor. It wasn't the key, but it was something else that could prove useful. He wrapped his hand around the hilt of the demon knife and stood slowly, hoping not to gain Alastair's attention, but thankfully he was preoccupied with his plans for Cas. He had seemingly forgotten the humans, apparently thinking of them as nothing of consequence anymore.

"Let's see how much of your angel mojo I can bleed out of you," Alastair sneered, slowly shoving the blade into the spot on Cas' chest where his ribcage met.

Dean didn't even hesitate. He simply leapt forward and stabbed the demon knife through Alastair's throat. The demon froze, a choked off grunt coming from him. Dean yanked the blade out, and Alastair let go of Cas, allowing the angel to fall into a heap on the ground before he slowly turned, the wound in his neck sparking red. Alastair's eyes showed pure hatred and betrayal, before they flicked white. Blood dripped from the demon's mouth as he hissed, opening his mouth to try and say something but all that came out was a bloody gurgle.

Dean fell on him then with fury. Stabbing him in the chest over and over again, not even realizing that Alastair was on the ground and he was kneeling over him. There was blood everywhere, but Dean still didn't stop. He had to make sure Alastair wasn't coming back.

"Dean!" It took him a long time to register the voice. "Dean, stop!"

Hands grabbed him, stilling his movements and hauled him back where Dean collapsed, panting against the person who had pulled him away from his enemy.

"He's dead," the person said, and Dean blinked through his haze, realizing that the person speaking was Cas. "Dean, he's dead, it's okay. It's over."

Dean took several deep shuddering breaths as he knelt there, Cas' hand clamped firmly on his shoulder before he saw the damage he had done to Alastair's body.

His stomach finally rebelled and he hunched over and vomited on the floor. He nearly fell in it but Cas grabbed the back of his jacket and kept him from collapsing. Dean gasped in several breaths, trying to fight through the shock and the relief that this was over. The enormity that this monster who had tortured and manipulated him, who had made him into someone he had never wanted to be was finally dead. He wouldn't have to worry about him anymore.

And then his head snapped up again as he remembered why he was really there. "Sammy," he croaked and scrambled to his feet, stumbling over to the rack again, before tossing a look over his shoulder. "Cas, help me get him out."

The angel rose slowly, and limped over toward the Winchesters. Dean swallowed hard, seeing just how badly Alastair had beaten the angel up. Cas had bloody slashes all over him, plus the stab wound from Uriel, and a new wound in his back, bleeding through the trench coat.

Cas simply broke the straps with a swift tug and Dean instantly gathered Sam up, ignoring the fact that his brother was a huge sasquatch now and not a little boy, and simply hauled him bodily from the rack before he collapsed backwards to sit against the wall, Sam cradled against his chest as Dean took stock of his brother's shaking body.

"I got you, Sammy, it's okay, now," Dean kept saying over and over.

"D'n?" Sam murmured, head lolling against Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah, kiddo," Dean said, anger boiling inside him as he saw the wreckage that were Sam's wrists, torn from his struggling. And then began to study the rest of his body. He carefully peeled Sam's t-shirt up and was almost sick again as he saw the damage done to Sam's stomach and chest. The wounds themselves were dangerous enough but coupled with the obvious blood loss…

"Cas," Dean choked out, looking up at the angel who was standing over them, leaning against the rack, and watching the brothers' reunion with a somewhat pained expression. Dean's hand was on the back of Sam's head, pulling his brother against his shoulder as Sam's matted hair tickled his chin. "Can you heal him?"

The angel furrowed his brow, but crouched down beside Dean and reached out to touch Sam's forehead with two fingers. The spot of contact started to glow and Sam tensed in Dean's arms, but the glowing stopped abruptly and Cas collapsed ungracefully backwards onto his ass, eyes squeezed shut and breathing heavily. Dean looked between the angel and his brother, seeing all of the wounds still there.

"Cas?" he demanded.

"I'm…sorry," Cas gritted out. "These injuries, the sigils in here…they've taken a lot out of me. I…I stopped the bleeding but I can't heal him completely now."

Dean looked down at his brother's pale face. Sammy wasn't even conscious anymore, and he was so cold…

"We gotta get him to a hospital," Dean said urgently. "Can you help me carry him out to the car?"

Between the two of them, they hauled Sam's unconscious body to the Impala and installed him in the backseat. Dean pillowed his head with his jacket and wrapped one of their old army blankets tightly around him before climbing into the driver's seat, and turning the engine over, cranking up the heat.

He glanced over at Cas, slumped in the passenger seat, looking more dead than alive.

"You gonna be okay?" Dean asked gruffly.

Cas nodded slightly. "I will be. I just need to give my grace time to heal. My vessel has taken a lot of damage…"

Dean wanted to be angry that the angel couldn't heal Sam, but he wasn't. Cas had helped them more than Dean had expected him to, and frankly he was too tired to lay blame anywhere but Alastair. Really, he blamed himself. Obviously, this was all his fault, wasn't it? He'd started the whole ball rolling…

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a second before he put the car in drive, peeling out of the parking lot and back toward town, hoping that the hospital wasn't that far. "Well, just…take some time then, and get better, okay?"

There was no answer from the angel and when Dean looked over, he saw Cas slumped against the window completely unconscious.

"Crap," Dean muttered, glancing back at Sam one more time, before he urged the Impala on even faster.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean pulled into the hospital parking lot and slammed on the brakes, doing probably the worst parking job of his life. He was out of the car, almost before he had grabbed the keys from the ignition and opening up the back to see if he could rouse Sam to get him inside.

"Sammy, hey, I need you to wake up and give me a little help here, okay? It's not far, I promise."

Sam stirred and whimpered, eyes fluttering slightly before they blinked open. "D'n?" he murmured.

"Yeah, kiddo. Look, I can't carry you so you gotta help out and at least stand up, okay?"

Sam nodded once even though his eyes slid shut again. Dean bit his lip and glanced over the back of the seat toward Cas' slumped figure. He reached out and shook the angel's shoulder slightly. "Cas? Come on, man." But the angel didn't stir, completely out. Dean worriedly pressed his fingers to Cas' neck and felt a pulse there so at least he was still alive. At least, the poor guy he was riding around in was. It was too dark in the parking lot to see if any of Cas' wounds were healing. Still, he was covered in blood and Dean swiftly pulled a blanket from the back of the car, and draped it over Cas as if he were just someone taking a nap in the parking lot.

Dean then turned back to Sam and lifted his legs out of the car to start with before reaching in for his arms. "Okay, on three, one…two…"

He heaved Sam up and the younger man was unable to help a cry of pain as he completely collapsed against Dean, his legs unable to take his weight. Dean staggered, puffing as he tried to keep his brother upright. He waited for Sam to get his footing, and then slung one of his arms over his shoulders and firmly gripped the waistband of Sam's jeans with his other hand to keep him up without putting too much pressure on his wounds, then they started on the now impossibly long walk toward the emergency room entrance.

Thankfully, as they were staggering across the parking lot, some of the hospital personnel must have caught sight of them because they rushed out with a gurney to help. They promptly loaded Sam up and Dean had to answer a ton of questions that he couldn't answer truthfully as they rushed Sam inside. Dean suddenly found himself alone in the waiting room, answering even more invasive questions, growing more and more frantic by the minute with Sam out of his sight.

It was a long process, but Dean eventually put a stop to their questions and demanded to see his brother and once the doctor had finished with Sam, Dean was finally allowed to go to the room they had put him in. Dean stopped just inside and swallowed hard as he saw his brother lying there in the hospital bed. He may not have blood all over him anymore, but it hardly helped. He was still covered in bruises and cuts and now bandages. His eyes had purple bruises under them, and his breathing was slightly labored even with the cannula offering him extra oxygen. It didn't matter how many times one of them had been in this position, stuck in a hospital bed, beat to hell, it never got any easier.

Dean pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sank down, exhausted. He reached up and took Sam's limp hand in his, watching the monitors that told him his brother was still alive.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," he whispered, rubbing his thumb over Sam's bruised knuckles. "I'm so sorry."

He was surprised when Sam's fingers tightened around his and a small groan escaped his brother's throat. Dean leaned closer to his head, reaching up to cup the side of Sam's face.

"Hey, you awake in there?" he asked softly.

Sam's eyes slitted open as his face contorted with pain. "Mmh, sort of." He looked around briefly. "Hospital?"

"Yeah, you lost a lot of blood," Dean told him, nodding to the IV that was distributing the last of the transfusion to Sam. "Nothing too bad besides that though. No internal bleeding, amazingly. Though…that may be because Cas was able to heal a couple things before his mojo gave out."

Sam blinked and frowned. "Where is Cas? Is he okay?"

Dean hesitated a moment. "I don't know. He's still out in the Impala. He took some pretty hard hits and he's been unconscious since we left. I couldn't really bring him in here."

Sam shook his head slightly and cleared his throat, wincing. "Thirsty."

Dean reached for a pitcher on the side table. "How about some ice chips?"

Sam sighed but it was all he was going to get so he allowed Dean to feed him a couple. Dean patiently waited for the first one to melt before offering another.

This was familiar, and yeah, as messed up as it sounded, almost comforting. Hospital rooms meant that a hunt, even one that had gone bad, was over. They had taken care of each other all their lives and going through the motions of patching up wounds or sitting beside hospital beds was second nature, it was something that brought them down from the horrors they might have witnessed beforehand.

But was it really over this time? Alastair was dead, yeah, that was something Dean was grateful about, but this revelation that he was the one who started the seals off being broken…who would be responsible for stopping the coming apocalypse in turn? It scared the crap out of him, because Dean knew that deep down, he didn't think he could do it. He wasn't strong enough. Sam and been right. Dean just couldn't do this kind of thing. It was too big! How the hell was one human supposed to stop something like the apocalypse?

The nurse came in, startling him out of his thoughts and checked Sam's vitals before she stopped the transfusion, leaving Sam with only the IV drip and gave him a dose of morphine. It always put Sam out like a baby, and Dean watched his brother's eyes droop as the nurse promised to come back in a little bit, and asked if Dean needed anything.

"Maybe just some coffee," he said, knowing there was no way he was going to sleep that night. Once she left, he turned back to Sam, stoking his hair, still crusty with sweat and blood, away from his face. Sam hummed slightly but he was already asleep, still looking painfully thin and pale, and all too much like a kid again. Some fragile kid that Dean needed to protect against everything. He knew that wasn't true anymore, that he wasn't allowed to think like that, but it was hard to remember that when his baby brother was lying in a hospital bed, hurt too badly to even stand on his own two feet.

The nurse came back with a large cup of coffee and Dean gratefully drank it, just letting the caffeine flow through his veins for a few moments. Then, feeling a little better, he grabbed some paper towels from the small bathroom attached to the room and began to clean the rest of the blood out of Sam's hair as well as he could without running water. Sam looked a little better when he had finished.

Then with sudden guilt, he called Bobby. The older hunter was pissed that he hadn't checked in but Dean knew it was because he had been worried, and Bobby's voice had gotten gentler eventually as the older hunter told him to let him know if there was anything he could do. Dean couldn't help but think how different that was from the couple of occasions he'd had to call his dad and tell him Sammy was in the hospital.

It was a long night alone with his thoughts, but Dean didn't know what else to do, and he certainly couldn't bring himself to leave Sam's side, even for a second.

He heard a footstep in the hallway and turned around, expecting to see a nurse, but instead was shocked to see Castiel. The angel stood in the doorway, of the room, watching the brothers with an unreadable expression.

"Cas," Dean said after a long second, noting the uncharacteristic slump of the angel's shoulders, how he listed slightly toward the doorjamb. "You okay?"

The angel shook himself and stepped into the room. "Yes, well, my grace is still getting back to full power but my wounds are healed."

Dean nodded, actually feeling relieved that Cas was okay.

"Do you…mind if I sit?" Cas asked hesitantly as if he weren't sure of the proper protocol.

"Yeah, of course," Dean said, figuring he must still be a little tired. Cas slumped rather heavily into the other chair beside Dean, confirming the hunter's suspicions.

"How is Sam?" Cas asked, looking the younger Winchester up and down.

"He'll be okay," Dean said. "They got some more blood into him."

"Dean, I'm sorry this happened," Cas said and he sounded genuine. Dean wasn't sure if it was because he was just getting more used to the angel or if it was that Cas was actually starting to show more emotions. "I will heal him as soon as I am able."

"It's not your fault, Cas," Dean replied automatically.

"I should have suspected Uriel was up to something. I did have fair warning," Cas looked off toward the wall as if contemplating something. "Whatever he and Alastair were truly planning to do with Sam though, I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that."

Dean swallowed hard and he was silent for a long time before he looked down at the half empty coffee cup that he held between his hands. "Cas…what Alastair said, about me breaking the First Seal. That was true, wasn't it?"

Cas exhaled slowly. "Yes."

Dean closed his eyes and felt a wave of helpless grief wash over him again.

"But Dean, you cannot blame yourself for that," Cas told him.

"Why not?" Dean demanded bitterly. "I did it, Cas, I started this whole mess!"

Cas shook his head. "You don't understand. The demons had it all planned out. It wasn't even supposed to be you, Dean. It was supposed to be your father. But he wouldn't break, and then he escaped out the devil's gate when you opened it so they had to think of another way. That's why you were offered only one year for your deal, that's why Lilith gave you to Alastair. Everyone breaks under Alastair—it was just a matter of time, and for the record, most of them don't even last a fraction of what you did."

Dean swallowed hard. "It doesn't really make me feel better."

"If anyone is to blame for what happened, Dean, it's me," the angel said bitterly.

Dean finally looked up at him. "What? Why?"

Cas focused on Sam's comatose form. "Because I was sent to get you out, and I was too late."

"You couldn't have known," Dean tried to reassure the angel, hearing the pain in his voice.

"Perhaps that is the truth," Cas said. "It was what I told myself when I found out that I had failed in saving the First Seal and you. But now…now I almost wonder if I was not sent earlier for that very reason. If what…if what Uriel says is true, if he was able to rebel and go unnoticed for so long, then maybe there are angels in the upper choirs that actually want to see the end of the world." He looked down at his hands. "Perhaps I was never meant to stop you getting off the rack in the first place."

Dean glanced over at the angel again, fear gripping his chest. "You can't be serious."

Cas met his eyes with a dark expression. "I am very serious. Dean, I…I don't know what's in store in the coming months. We are quickly losing the battle against the demons to stop the Seals from being broken. I am losing many of my brothers and sisters. But I want you to know that, no matter the outcome, I believe we should stand for what is the betterment of the world, of humanity."

Dean watched him as he spoke, seeing the sincerity in Cas. He hadn't seen that since the day they had talked in the park after stopping Samhain. Dean decided he liked this Cas a lot more than the stuck up dick who wanted to kill Anna just because she disobeyed.

"For the record, Dean, I never saw you as just a means to an end," Cas told him after a long moment. "You and your brother…the determination you have, that alone could be enough to stop this. But unlike the other angels, I see the true value of you working together, despite what they say about Sam and the demon blood. Uriel…he didn't see that." Cas sighed and slumped slightly. "I'm sorry for what he did. I should have suspected something, but I was blind, and I didn't think it was my place to question."

"I thought you were his superior," Dean said.

Cas looked up at him with a slightly wry expression. "There was a…change in rank recently. The angels felt that I had grown too close with the humans under my charge." He looked pointedly at Dean and shifted his gaze with a pained expression toward Sam's unconscious form. "They thought it would…compromise me, render me a liability on my mission."

"That's crap," Dean muttered and finally turned to look at the angel fully. "I uh, I should offer you an apology, and a thank you. I wouldn't have gotten out of there alive if it wasn't for you. I know you didn't have to help me save Sam, but…I was glad to have you there. And I hope you don't get in trouble for it."

Cas actually offered a small quirk of his mouth that was akin to a smile. "Well, it certainly wouldn't be the first time."

Dean raised his eyebrows, unable to help himself. Picturing the stoic and seemingly emotionless Castiel as a rebel was something Dean hadn't expected, but yet…he remembered Cas telling him he wasn't a hammer. For the first time, he had started to see that he had been right. Maybe he could get along with the angel after all.

Dean took a deep breath and then said, softly, hesitantly, "Cas, I don't…I don't think I can do it."

"Do what, Dean?" Cas asked, glancing back over at him.

Dean swallowed hard. "Stop it. I mean, come on, man, it's the freaking apocalypse. And I…I'm not strong enough to do it. Not anymore. Ever since I came back, I just haven't been the same. I just haven't felt…whole. Alastair broke me, he was right. I'm not strong like I used to be; I can barely keep myself together, how can I save the world when I can barely stand to get up in the morning?"

"Dean," Cas said firmly. "You don't have to do it alone, you know. Your brother will be at your side—despite whatever differences you may be going through, I think you know that is the truth. And you have Bobby Singer, a loyal friend. You think of him as family, do you not?" Dean nodded and Cas cocked his head to one side. "And I will also be there to offer guidance and assistance when I am able."

Dean tried not to allow the skeptical look to cross his face as Cas said that. The angel seemed to see it all the same. He slumped forward suddenly, leaning his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands and looked down at them. "I know you may not believe me, and I can't promise that things will not get difficult. Even I am not sure of all that will be asked of you; I am not privy to all of what is to come."

"Nothing good," Dean muttered, glancing again back at Sam's face, his throat aching as he thought of what they might have to endure in the days to come.

"Probably not," Cas said truthfully, and then turned back toward Dean finally, spearing him with his blue eyes. "But you know that all you need to do is pray to me, Dean, and I will be there."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. His throat started to close, and he had to look aside. "Thanks, Cas," he said. "And…I mean it, thanks for the help you've already given me. I Just want you to know that I don't think you're such a dick anymore—that's a compliment."

Castiel cocked his head to one side. "I…thank you."

Dean's mouth almost quirked up into a smile. "I don't know what changed, but just…don't change back, okay?"

Dean was actually surprised to see the sad look cross Cas' face as he said that. Dean got a slight nagging in his stomach, wondering why the angel would have that reaction to his comment but Cas was quick to cover it and ducked his head.

"I'll try my best," he said.

Dean glanced back at Sam's sleeping form then at the empty coffee cup in his hands. "I'm gonna go get us some coffee. Can you watch him until I come back?"

"Of course," Cas said. "But I don't require food or drink."

"I know," Dean shrugged. "But that's what you do when you have to sit in a hospital room and watch over someone. You sit and drink bad coffee in crappy chairs and wish you had alcohol instead."

"Oh, I see," Cas said, furrowing his brow slightly as if he were taking in actually useful information.

Dean rolled his eyes slightly as he got up, stretching his back out with a wince. He'd taken a few hits from Alastair and Uriel himself and sitting in an uncomfortable chair for hours hadn't done him any favors.

When he got back, nothing had changed. Cas hadn't moved, and Sam hadn't woken up. Dean handed Cas the second coffee as he took his seat again and the angel sipped it cautiously, narrowing his eyes.

"It is…bitter, rather acidic. Sort of tastes like paper," he mused.

Dean snorted. "That's hospital coffee for you. That's the worst part. Even the coffee sucks. Diner coffee is always the best. Someday I'll have to get you some. But it is an acquired taste."

Cas nodded slowly, eyeing the cup after another sip. "I rather like it."

Dean smirked. "Well, that's a start, I guess."

They were silent for a long time, Dean anxiously watching Sam for any signs of pain or discomfort. The doctor came in again and told him all Sam's vitals were normal and that he was doing well, but Dean still just wished that they could be back at Bobby's even though he knew the drive in Sam's condition would not be pleasant. He wasn't sure he wanted Cas to zap them there either. It had…unpleasant effects on the body at best, and Dean didn't want to risk trying it in Sam's condition.

Eventually, exhaustion and the trauma and lack of sleep the last several days won out and Dean passed out, head propped against the bed at Sam's shoulder, by some miracle—perhaps one performed by the angel sitting next to him—suffering no nightmares.

~~~~~~~

Castiel watched over the Winchesters as they slept, enjoying the quiet moment away from the turmoil of Heaven, the fight for the Seals. He knew he should be out there, he especially knew that he should report what had happened with Uriel, but for now he was going to do the other job he was charged with, watching over Dean Winchester.

Of course, Castiel also extended that to Sam, after all, it wasn't like he could choose. Besides he felt both of them were highly important and thought the other angels rather stupid to think otherwise.

And he needed time to heal. He could feel his grace coming back to power, but he would not leave until he was able to heal Sam Winchester.

"I thought I might find you here."

Castiel startled as he looked up and saw Anna standing in the doorway of the room. He started to stand up, reaching for his angel blade, but she held up her hands, only taking one step closer.

"I don't mean you any harm, Cas" she said. "Please, I just want a moment."

Castiel slumped in the chair, releasing the angel blade. "If the others knew I talked to you…"

"I know, they wouldn't be happy," Anna said bitterly. "But do you think they would be any happier to find you sitting here with the Winchesters after killing Uriel and stopping Alastair? You haven't even reported what happened yet."

Castiel looked at her suspiciously. "How do you know about that?"

Anna came further into the room, glancing between Sam and Dean with a pained expression on her face. "I was following Uriel. I had seen him go off on his own a lot. I would have warned you, Castiel, but I couldn't find a safe way to do it. I'm glad you were able to stop him, though…I see you got hurt in the process. I'm sorry I cannot heal you."

"I am fine now," Castiel assured her somewhat gruffly.

"Uriel wasn't the end of this," Anna told him. "You know that. You know there are more like him, more angels who want to see the apocalypse happen, no matter the outcome."

Castiel nodded slowly. "I know. And I plan to look into it."

Anna's face twisted into an emotion that Castiel couldn't quite read. She looked like she wanted to say one thing, but instead settled on, "Be careful, Castiel."

Castiel nodded, glancing toward the slumbering Winchesters again before he took a deep breath and said. "Anna, I…I have begun to question things. Uriel said something to me—that God was not giving the orders. Is that what you think?"

Anna gave a pained look but nodded her head. "I'm pretty sure that's the case, Castiel. I…if you had seen what I had back before I fell, I don't think you would have any doubt of that."

Castiel felt his throat tighten as he shook his head. "Then who…who is giving the orders?"

"I can't say," Anna said. "But be cautious who you trust." She cocked her head to one side then, studying him until he almost felt uncomfortable. "You've changed, Castiel."

"Perhaps I have," he admitted somewhat wryly.

Anna looked him straight in the eye. "Do not let them see that you are thinking of disobedience. You don't know…just don't, okay? Be safe, brother. And if you ever need help, don't hesitate to call."

Castiel opened his mouth to reply to her, but she was already gone with a soft waft of air displaced by her wings. Castiel glanced over at his human charges again, wondering exactly what the consequences of 'disobedience' were. Anna spoke as if from personal experience.

Still, Castiel was more concerned about doing what he felt was right.

No matter the cost.

~~~~~~~

Sam's dreams were filled with flashes of a blade cutting into him, the pain, the sound of his own screams, tinny to his ears. Alastair's sibilant hiss roped around inside his head, but it wasn't always the demon he saw in his dream.

Sometimes, it was Dean standing over him with the knife.

"No, stop," he pleaded. "Dean…"

It was then the dreams broke, and Sam felt a warmth infuse him, soothing the hurts he had suffered and making him feel completely at peace.

He blinked his eyes open, feeling groggy, but well rested. He instantly recognized he was in a hospital room but instead of Dean leaning over him it was Castiel.

Sam started for an instant, scared he might be dreaming and Uriel might be back to get him, but Castiel simply offered a small smile, and touched his shoulder so he wouldn't move.

"Easy. You are healed, but you may still be a little dizzy."

Sam took stock of his body then, fingers exploring his stomach where Alastair had taken a particular pleasure is digging a blade into his guts, and peeling the bandages off his wrists, which had bled profusely due to his struggling. There was nothing but smooth skin there now.

"Th-thanks," he said, voice slightly raw. He looked around and spotted Dean slumped against the side of his bed, head rested on his folded arms. Sam felt relief to see his brother there, and sleeping no less. He turned back to Castiel.

"Is he okay?' he asked quietly.

Castiel gave a wry look. "Dean will need some time to recover after facing Alastair again. But now that the demon is dead, perhaps it can help him move on."

Sam swallowed hard and nodded, listening to his brother's deep breaths—something he hadn't heard in a long time. Dean never slept that well anymore. He wondered if the angel had had something to do with that too.

"Sam, I am sorry for what happened," Castiel told him. "I'm sorry Uriel used me to get to you."

"I should have known it was a trap," Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and starting to peel off the bandages he didn't need anymore. "I was just trying to keep Dean from having to do it—to face him again. But I just made it worse."

Castiel gave a wry look. "You meant well, Sam. That's all that matters. I know you and your brother would do anything for each other. He's going to need your support now."

Sam's face suddenly crumpled as he glanced at his brother again and looked back toward the angel with unshed tears in his eyes. "It's true, isn't it?" he whispered. "About Dean breaking the first seal?"

Castiel nodded, his expression pained. "Yes."

"He can't stop it," Sam choked out. "Not alone."

"He doesn't have to," Castiel replied. "He has you, after all."

"I don't know if I'm strong enough," Sam said in a small voice. Castiel reached out and touched his shoulder.

"I believe you are strong enough," he said truthfully. "And I think Dean is stronger than you or he himself give him credit for."

Sam watched his brother sleep again for a few seconds, then turned back to the angel. "Thank you, Castiel. For keeping him safe."

The angel gave a small smile. "I will do that as much as I am able, but considering everything I've already seen you two go through, I am thinking it might be a greater task than I originally anticipated."

Sam was surprised at the inkling of wry humor he caught in Cas' voice and wondered what had changed in the angel from the stoic, no-nonsense, aloof being he had first met. But he was distracted from that by Dean stirring at his shoulder, seeming to have finally registered that Sam was awake. Dean's head came up and he rubbed sleep from his eyes before blinking at seeing Sam sitting up and watching him. Sam smiled at his brother's surprised yet relieved expression.

"Sammy, you're awake! How're you feeling?"

"Good," Sam assured him. "Cas healed me."

Dean's eyes flicked toward the angel and a silent thank you passed between them before Dean inevitably started checking Sam over, just to make sure. Sam endured it, not minding much at all. He was still shaken from his time with Alastair, and these familiar motions, Dean's incessant mother-henning and all, were normal and something he needed just then.

"Dean, I'm fine," he finally said as the poking and prodding became incessant, though quietly so as not to upset his brother.

Dean met his eyes and swallowed hard. Sam felt an ache start in his chest. He knew they were both thinking the same thing. Of course he wasn't all right, not really. Nor was Dean. The wounds may be gone, but the trauma was still there, the horror, the things Alastair had told him. Cas couldn't heal that even if he had wanted to. And catching the look the angel was watching them with out of the corner of his eye, Sam could tell that the Cas wished he could do more than just heal the physical wounds.

Dean cleared his throat to end the tense moment. "Alright, well, if you're feeling better we need to blow this joint before they start looking for money, not to mention notice that your wounds have miraculously healed."

"Yeah, let's get out of here," Sam agreed.

Dean helped him from the bed, since he was still a little dizzy, and then handed him his bag so he could change. Once he was fully dressed again, Cas stepped forward and settled a hand on each of their shoulders. In another blink, they were standing outside in the parking lot beside the Impala.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief as he fished his keys out of his pocket. "Alright, I say we go back to Bobby's and rest for the next couple days." He glanced over at Cas. "You need a lift?"

The angel shook his head. "No, I am back to full power again. And I have many things that I need to see to." His mouth twisted wryly as he said it. "But remember, if you need me, all you have to do is pray."

Dean nodded. "All right, well, thanks again."

"It's no trouble, Dean," Cas told him firmly.

"And Cas," Dean added. "Stay safe."

The angel nodded once and then there was a displacement of air and he was gone. Sam blinked at the space Cas had been standing and then glanced over to his brother.

"Let's get out of here," Dean said.

The ride was quiet as they made their way toward Bobby's place. Dean didn't even have his music on. He was just staring out at the road ahead. Sam didn't really like his silence; it was hiding too many things.

"Dean," he finally said, his quiet voice even seeming too loud in the silence of the Impala. "You know it doesn't matter, right?"

"What doesn't matter?" Dean asked flatly.

Sam took a deep breath before continuing. "That you broke the First Seal. It doesn't matter to me, okay? I know if wasn't your fault."

"That doesn't really make it okay, Sammy."

"Maybe not, but even Cas doesn't blame you. And you heard Alastair, you were supposed to do it, you were forced into it. There was no way of knowing."

Dean was silent, jaw tight, hands gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles whitened.

"We're gonna get through this," Sam said. "We're gonna get through this together." He exhaled long and slow and looked down at the hands in his lap. "But first, I need to be honest with you about what's going on with me, with my…powers. But only if you share the favor, okay? Tell me how you're really doing because I think I deserve to know, Dean. You're my brother, and I would die for you. But I can't help you if you shut me out." He glanced over at Dean. "Deal?"

Dean took a long moment before he carefully pulled off to the side of the road and finally looked back at Sam and nodded once. "Okay. Deal."

So Sam braced himself and told Dean the truth about the demon blood, and then Dean told him how he really felt after coming back from Hell. By the time they were done, both had been angry, both had shed tears, but they were stronger for it too.

Maybe, hopefully, even strong enough to stop the coming apocalypse as long as they stuck together.


End file.
